


Skill Is A Flame, Courage Is A Fire

by WriterRose



Series: The Gifted [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: (except there's no avatar), Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Hobbits Are Benders, M/M, Magical Hobbits, some hobbits don’t have bending and that’s perfectly fine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2019-11-12 16:04:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18013985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterRose/pseuds/WriterRose
Summary: 'Hobbits may be children of Eru, but they were favorites of Yavanna. The old folklore tell that the Good Lady of the Earth was so stricken with these homely, peaceable beings who cared for and used her earthly creations to their fullest intent and purposes that she had blessed them with a Gift of their own; the ability to hold sway over the natural elements.These abilities assist the Hobbits in their daily life, and if the Valar forbid, they were ever attacked by those who wished them harm, they’d have the power to defend themselves.Though, Hobbits haven’t needed to use their abilities for battle in centuries, and even so, to use one’s Gift in front of outsiders is considered highly taboo. After all, no one wanted Yavanna’s Blessing to become a curse that sent trouble to their borders.However, when one is so far from home, secrets have a way of coming to light. Especially when one’s friends are in danger and need saving.'----Or, Hobbits are benders and Gandalf doesn't seem to care that Bilbo's a pretty bad one and drags him away on an adventure anyway.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a combination of two quotes _"Courage is fire, and bullying is smoke."_ by Benjamin Disraeli and _"Talent is a flame. Genius is a fire."_ by Bernard Williams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really sure where I’m going with this, but couldn’t get the idea out of my head. Inspired by an old prompt from the Hobbit Kink Meme that I can’t seem to find, so if someone can link that for me, that would be amazing.
> 
> Any grammar and spelling mistakes are my own.

Hobbits may be children of Eru, but they were favorites of Yavanna. Old Hobbit folklore says that the Good Lady of the Earth was so stricken with these homely, peaceable beings who cared for and used her earthly creations to their fullest intent and purposes that she had blessed them with a gift of their own; the power to speak to nature directly, the ability to hold sway over the natural elements. 

There are the Ground-growers who can make the earth move and wake green things from the soil. There are the Flame-formers who can create light and fire that can warm even the coldest of places. There are the River-runners who can reverse the flow of a stream or mend even the worst of hurts with their healing hands. And finally there are the Wind-weavers who can sing to the breeze and beguile gales. 

These abilities assist the Hobbits in their daily life, and if the Valar forbid, they were ever attacked by those who wished them harm, they’d have the power to defend themselves. 

However, Hobbits haven’t needed to use their abilities for battle in centuries, and even so, to use one’s Gift in front of outsiders is considered highly taboo. After all, no one wanted Yavanna’s Blessing to become a curse that sent trouble to their borders.

* * *

**BOOK 1: An Unexpected Journey**

Bilbo Baggins has lived a fairly ordinary life. 

He says _fairly_ ordinary because there are certain things about him that are not quite ordinary but not quite spectacular either. 

For one, he has had it easier than most hobbits in terms of lifestyle. He’s not quite so thick that he can’t see that he’s lived a rather comfy life compared to most other hobbits. Since both his parents were from well-to-do families, they had left him a good sum of money when they died so he’s never had to worry about work. It was such a good sum that by the time Bilbo eventually passed on into the next world, he’ll be leaving a good chunk of change behind, even after living quite a luxurious life (by Hobbit standards).

Another pretty ordinary thing about Bilbo was his love life. He’s had his fair share of romances and flings but by the time all the other lads and lasses he had grown up with were marrying and having children, Bilbo had remained unattached, so to speak. He had always believed that when the time came for him to find that one hobbit he was meant to settle down with, he’d know and feel it in his heart. But that feeling never came, not with any of the lads or lasses he had coupled with over the years. 

However, he’s always been a bit overly concerned over what people thought of him (he blamed his Baggins side and father for that), so that when the time came that Bilbo was officially considered age-appropriate for settling down, he did. He just did so alone.

Some may have found it lonely - sad, even - being in that big smial all by himself, but Bilbo kept himself busy. 

He spent countless hours holed up inside his cozy home pouring over maps and stories of foreign cultures and legends of ancient, long forgotten realms. He was considered quite queer by other hobbit folk because he was maybe a little _too_ well-read, but he could hold conversation with others easily enough and others found him to be quite polite and even humorous, so no one minded his oddness too much. He’d go to the markets and the festivals and chat amicably with his fellow folk, but at the end of the day he’d return to his grand, luxurious smial alone. It was the way that he - and everyone else, for that matter - preferred it.

Another regard in which Bilbo was considered fairly ordinary was with his Gift. He wasn’t one of the Missed, those who had not been Gifted, but he wasn’t considered especially skilled by those who were either.

He was a Flame-former, but a decidedly average one at that. Particularly skilled hobbits of his same Gift were often found in jobs of craftmanship, like glass blowers or jewelers, who need not a strong forge to heat their materials; they only required their bare hands. Some Flame-formers even became performers who’d wow audiences during festivals with daring displays of their abilities, making flames dance in the air and lick the skin of their audience members, close enough to warm but never burn. 

Bilbo was not like either of these types of folk. All he could do was easily ignite or extinguish his candle wicks if he so happened to forget to do so after he had already climbed into bed or keep himself warm easily enough on especially cold winter nights without the use of a hearth.

He had experimented some in his lifetime and had tested his limits, as all Gifted hobbits do. He could light and extinguish a torch or a small campfire perhaps, but that was his extent, which he was content with. 

After all, a Gift was meant to make a Hobbit’s life easier and Bilbo’s had done that for him. What more could he possibly need from his Gift?

This was a question that Bilbo thought would always remain rhetorical. That is, until a daft Wizard came a-knocking and he foolishly followed after thirteen Dwarves on a Quest to slay a dragon and reclaim a mountain. 

* * *

Gandalf was one of the extremely few non-Hobbits in Middle-earth who knew of Hobbits and their Gifts. Bilbo wasn’t sure if this was because he had maybe encountered a loose-lipped hobbit in the past or if he knew because it was simply something that a Wizard was expected to know.

Regardless, Gandalf was different than other outsiders, anyway. All Hobbits knew that he was a trusted friend who barely batted an eye at their Gifts when displayed. The only time he would show anything akin to awe would be during festivals, the only time when Gifted hobbits went all-out, so to speak. 

Wind-weavers would sing their enchanting songs and pull others into their light-footed dances. Ground-growers would show off their harvest and adorn the venue in the most gorgeous of flower arrangements, some flowers even growing before everyone’s very eyes. River-runners would join Flame-formers in putting on a show for attendees. Flame-formers would throw a fireball into the air and River-runners would sent a glimmering glob of water after it, causing the two elements to crash into one another in the sky and burst into a cloud of mist and steam. It was all good fun, really, and Gandalf always seemed to enjoy himself. He kept coming back every few years or so, after all. 

Bilbo himself had only met Gandalf a number of times growing up. He was apparently an old friend of his grandfather and subsequently, his mother, so he had ran into the wizard every now and again. 

However, Gandalf unexplainably stopped showing up to parties after a while and Bilbo was a bit confused, but then he grew up and had more important things to consider. After a while, all talk of the Wandering Wizard seemed to pass into memories of a reminiscent kind. 

So when Gandalf showed up at his gate, looking for someone _‘to share in an adventure’_ , Bilbo was more than a little confused. 

The conversation was mostly Gandalf demanding things and Bilbo vehemently issuing refusals to deaf ears.

Eventually, just as Bilbo had had enough and was about to storm off, Gandalf posed a question that had Bilbo pausing;

“And tell me, my boy, are you still considered what they call a ‘Flame-former’?” he had asked, sounding almost off-handed.

“Um, yes?” Bilbo had responded, tone laced with surprise and confusion. “It’s not exactly something that goes away...” he trailed.

Gandalf then said something about _‘it’_ being _‘decided’_ and how _‘it would be very good for’_ him, but by this point, Bilbo was already rushing up his steps and sealing himself away inside his home (though not without a few choice words to the Wizard in response). 

That didn’t stop the Wizard from leaving his mark on Bilbo’s poor, poor door however, or stop a bunch of bossy, noisy dwarves from wrecking his home. 

Some time later, after his brief little fainting spell, Gandalf had pulled Bilbo aside and told him that one of the real reasons he had wanted Bilbo specifically for this Quest was because of his Gift, which of course sent Bilbo into a fury. 

For one, Hobbits were not to share their Gift with _any_ outsiders, least of all _Dwarves,_ whose greed and battle lust were no secret, even to creatures as far removed as Hobbits. 

And two, Bilbo was painfully average in his Gift. Some would even argue mediocre, so he had no idea why Gandalf thought him best suited to face a fire-breathing _dragon_. 

All these highly rational points were moot however, since Bilbo ended up throwing all reason to the wind after hearing a ruddy song. It was no Swaying Song like some Wind-weavers could produce, but Bilbo still felt himself so moved and compelled that it may as well have been magic.

And now he was in the Wild, in the company of rude, rowdy dwarves, preparing to face a dragon with his little candle-lighting trick.

Blast it. Blast it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story is based off of the animated Nickelodeon _Avatar_ universe with Hobbits being the equivalent of benders. A primary difference in this universe though is that there is no such thing as an Avatar amongst Hobbits (meaning a Hobbit can only control one element or none at all). 
> 
> Types of Gifts/Gifted Hobbits and Abilities:  
>  ** _Flame-formers_** \- fire benders, can create and/or control fire, some slight healing capabilities  
>  ** _River-runners_** \- water benders, can manipulate water, powerful healing skills, capability to freeze  
>  ** _Ground-growers_** \- earth benders, control over plants and other natural materials from the earth (metal, minerals, etc), can create the natural materials  
>  ** _Wind-weavers_** \- air benders, can manipulate the air around them and make strong gusts of wind, can manipulate already existing gusts of wind, can produce the equivalent of siren songs that can compel others to do things
> 
> Comments and suggestions for story are super appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s an incident with some Trolls and Bilbo discovers that he may be a little less helpless than he initially thought.

When they first set out on their journey, Bilbo figured he just needed some good old fashioned practice to get his skills up to snuff if he wanted a chance at even surviving a dragon.

Usually before the Company headed to bed, Bilbo would discreetly grab his candlesticks that he remembered to pack (which was more than he could say for his poor handkerchief), head off into the woods, find a relatively secluded area, and begin his practice. 

The dwarves usually gave him odd looks before he left and once he returned, though they must’ve taken Bilbo’s sneaking off as him being prudish or something else of the sort. Bilbo couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed however, since them thinking he was some sort of fiend was better than them knowing the truth. Gandalf typically covered for him, anyway.

Bilbo had a set up when it came to practicing. When he was young, he and his mother would go out outside, line up their candles on some non-flammable surface, and then they’d take to practicing. His mother was a Flame-former like Bilbo and his father was one of the Missed (typical of a Baggins), but he would sometimes accompany the two and watch as Bilbo and his mother would practice lighting the candles. First in height order, then the reverse, then in a random order, and so on. 

Try as his mother might, Bilbo could never get past having a great affinity at lighting the candles. He could light them with just a look, in any fashion he pleased and he often put on quite the performances of flickering candlelight for his parents, but that was all he could do. He couldn’t even get a simple flame to form in his palm. His parents and grandparents had reasoned it must’ve been his Baggins blood that lead to Bilbo’s weakened Gift, though it was hardly an impediment to his life. It was perfectly natural for some Hobbits to be less Gifted than others and some relatives argued that a weak Gift was better than no Gift at all (though Bilbo’s father would have to disagree).

When he’d sneak off from the Company, Bilbo would go over the same exercises his mother used to teach him and then try going past his comfort zone. 

Unsurprisingly, Bilbo hadn’t improved in the some-odd years it had been since he had truly practiced. He’d still try each night to do more, but each night ended the same; no improvement and his candles a little shorter than when he had started. 

It wasn’t until the encounter with the trolls did Bilbo realize that if he wanted to improve, he needed something a little more than just good old fashioned practice to kick things off. 

Gandalf wasn’t around that night since he and Thorin had a row, so Bilbo figured he should take some extreme caution before he snuck off. He decided he’d wait until after supper but Bofur had stopped him and sent him off to bring Fili and Kili their meals. Bilbo didn’t really mind the errand. For one, he quite liked Bofur and two, he’d have to check around for Fili and Kili anyway if he wanted to practice since the two had taken to sneaking around in an attempt to catch Bilbo in the middle of whatever it was he was doing each night. 

Luckily, he always managed to evade them, but that didn’t spare him their prying questions. Their suspicious stares were only rivaled by Thorin’s, but Gandalf had gone off on the three, as well as the rest off the Company one right, after they had raised their mistrust of Bilbo due to his mysterious behavior. The wizard then made up some kind of ‘condition’ for Bilbo that required him to seek privacy to treat it. It wasn’t necessarily a lie and it had stopped the questions, but Fili and Kili still fixed him with their doubtful looks, Kili especially. 

The two were on watch that night, so Bilbo didn’t have to spend long searching for them. Unfortunately, there was a problem, as they had put it. 

A few baffling moments later, Bilbo found himself alone and with the task of rescuing the ponies from the trolls. They were only behind a rope fence. All Bilbo needed to do was sever the rope and he’d not only free Myrtle and Minty and the others, but he’d maybe earn the good graces of the Company. (One could only dream).

The rope was posing a problem, however. It was thick and the knot was far too tight for Bilbo to even think of trying to untie. It was made by massive, bumbling trolls, after all. 

He needed something to cut it, something sharp. It took him a moment to then remember a trick he had once seen his cousin Flambard pull off. Bilbo wasn’t quite sure where Flambard had learned the trick and he had showed it off in an annoyingly show-offy kind of way, but it was impressive, all the same. Flambard was a Flame-former, and quite a good one, at that. He was able to concentrate his fire enough that he could essentially turn the tips of his fingers into a torch, creating a steady stream of flames that cut right through the ropes of the party tent at Granny Ada’s birthday on year. That landed he and Bilbo in some hot water, but Bilbo was so impressed with Flambard’s trick that he couldn’t really bring himself to be angry at getting into trouble even though he hadn’t done anything and instead he had pestered his cousin with questions.

Long story short, Bilbo had never managed the trick himself but it had been a few good years since he last tried such a thing and desperate times called for desperate measures and all that.

There was of course the issue that Fili and Kili may be watching, but Bilbo figured that if he turned his back, all would be fine. However, that was assuming that he could manage the trick. 

He couldn’t. 

Try as he might, Bilbo wasn’t able to pull it off. He clasped his hands together and held his fingers up to the rope and he was able to get a steady flame, but he wasn’t able to get it hot enough to slice through the rope. The rope caught fire, but it burned slowly. In the odd chance that the slow, crawling flame didn’t catch the ponies’ fencing on fire, turning their prison into a deadly, fiery one, the burning of the rope was too slow regardless. Bilbo couldn’t risk the trolls turning around to pick up a pony and finding a burning rope or worse, the forest catching fire. Bilbo extinguished the flame. He needed another plan.

That’s when he turned his attention to the troll’s knife.

Of course, his attempt to be sneaky and stealthily grab the knife had ended horribly and with Bilbo being blown into as if he were a handkerchief, which was _unpleasant_.

As the trolls argued over what he was and how they should eat him, Bilbo felt himself break into a nervous sweat. 

Many things then happened. First, Kili burst into the clearing and sliced the troll that Bilbo had failed to rob in the leg, sending him crashing to the ground.

“Drop him!” Kili ordered and Bilbo could _hear_ the cocksure grin he was surely wearing in his voice. But the hobbit had other problems though, seeing as all the blood was currently rushing to his head. He grew warmer.

“You what?” asked the troll from whose grasp Bilbo was dangling. 

“I said...drop him.” Kili ordered once more, tone more threatening as he took a stance with his sword to match.

It was then that Bilbo realized that he wasn’t warm, but _hot_. But it was too late.

“ _Y-YEE-OUCH!_ ” cried the troll that was holding him. 

_Not good,_ were Bilbo’s final thoughts before he went sailing through the air and promptly crashed into Kili. As he tried to stop the world from spinning, he heard the rest of the dwarves burst through the trees and begin their attack.

Once his head had cleared, Bilbo realized that he had been left unattended and he realized that was probably for the best as he should work out just what was going on. With him. Not the trolls (though that was a rather pressing matter).

He had never _burned_ someone before. He had never even been able to boil water without putting in a conscious effort. That was new, but Bilbo didn’t have much time to ponder it as the chaos furthered around him. 

Bilbo returned to his original task of freeing the ponies, seeing as how everyone else was busy. He managed it, but only thanks to the large knife and not without consequence either.

Which is how he and the dwarves ended up tied up in sacks.

As the trolls readied the spit that would soon have dwarf roasting on it, Bilbo caught them say something about dawn and turning into stone, so the hobbit had babbled to them back and forth. It was Bilbo’s fat mouth that then had poor Bombur dangling over an open mouth and so Bilbo panicked, making to move in someway, to just do _something_. And that’s when it happened.

The slightest movement of Bilbo’s arms had turned the trolls’ large campfire into a blazing bonfire that reached well-past the creatures’ torsos. The trolls were so surprised that they stepped back and sent Bombur falling back to the ground and landing safely on top of the others.

After he got over his shock, Bilbo swiftly put his arms down and the fire died completely (thankfully, the motion was concealed by the sack tied up to his neck). He stared wide-eyed at the embers, along with the rest of his present company as they were covered in darkness, their only light coming from the ashes of what remained of the logs of the fire and the slowly creeping sun in the east.

“What ‘appened ‘ere?” questioned who Bilbo gathered to be the leader of the trolls. “Which one of you idjits added oil?”

“It wasn’t me!” insisted the sniveling one.

“Me neitha’!” added the other.

“Well, it was one of youse ‘cause it wasn’t me! And this is taking too long!”

And then Gandalf showed up in quite the dramatic fashion - memorable line and all - and soon the trolls were turned to stone by the sunlight and the dwarves were all saved, and none of them had to roast over a fire to boot.

It was Gloin who got Bilbo free from his sack. He made an impressed sound as he sliced the rope at Bilbo’s shoulders, looming at the front of the sack as it fell away. “You must’ve gotten too close to that blaze there, laddie. You’re lucky it’s this thing that’s scorched and not you!”

Bilbo was confused for a moment before he stepped out of the sack and followed Gloin’s state down to Bilbo’s feet. His eyes widened further as he picked it up and noticed the black scorch marks in the fabric. Originating from the _inside_ of the sack. Where Bilbo’s _hands_ had been. Luckily, Gloin hadn’t caught that fact.

As the sack began to smoke where Bilbo currently grasped it, the hobbit’s eyes widened further before he dropped it entirely. He looked up, but thankfully Gloin had moved on to helping others and no one had seen him begin to turn the burlap into kindling. Even out of his grasp, it still continued to smoke so Bilbo took to stomping on it which is the sight that Gandalf walked in upon.

Before the wizard could say anything however, he was soon rushed upon by the dwarves.

“Nice save, Gandalf!” cheered Fili.

“I thought poor Bombur was a goner there for sure before you made that fire go mad!” Bofur chimed in.

“What?” Gandalf asked before he looked to Bilbo, who stared back at him helplessly. “Hm?” Gandalf hummed before it seemed to click. “Oh yes! Quite lucky it happened when it did, you are.” he said in the direction of the dwarves, though his attention was fixed on Bilbo as he said this, a spark of pride and elation agleam within his eyes.

Bilbo huffed in exasperation.

As Gandalf spoke to Thorin and investigated the area, Bilbo made it a point to keep his hands at his sides, dutifully balled into fists. He felt a familiar tingling throughout not just his fingers, but his whole body. It was new and strange for it to be so widespread. Not unpleasant, but strange. Bilbo felt alive in such a way that he had never been before, but it was still highly strange that any of this was happening at all. It was also slightly mortifying. 

Bilbo’s Gift had developed, and at his age no less! A spike in power and a lack of control over it typically happened when a hobbit went through puberty. This happening now to Bilbo, at this rate, was unheard of!

This realization only caused the tingling sensation to grow stronger, now a constant thrumming and it was with startling clarity and lots of mortification that Bilbo recalled what all young Hobbits with developing Gifts needed and realized, _‘Gloves, I need gloves.’_

Then, as if he had heard Bilbo’s frantic thoughts, Gandalf had reappeared and presented Bilbo with a pair. 

Bilbo hastily slid the leather over his fingers and he felt the thrumming turn back into the tingle and then die entirely, as if it were a wick that had been smothered.

Bilbo then looked up to Gandalf critically. “They’re my size.” he noted. It wasn’t a question. They were also the traditional color of young Flame-formers’ gloves; black, so as to better hide the scorch marks.

“Can never be too prepared.” Gandalf simply said with a shrug in lieu of an explanation before he walked off once more.

Bilbo frowned before he adjusted the gloves upon his hands, steeling himself to getting used to the feel of the material and the sensation of being kept at bay.

 _Blasted Wizard,_ he thought.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo muses on trust - or, the inherent lack of it, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any grammar and spelling mistakes are my own.

Traveling with a group of strangers - all non-Hobbits at that - whilst his Gift was developing was turning out to be quite stressful.

The tingling, burning sensation as well as the feeling of anxiousness that came along with wearing his gloves for too long was quickly become the worst of all of Bilbo’s troubles. His Gift, of course, just couldn’t behave itself.

The developmental stage of a young hobbit’s life is usually a time of chaos. Tweenage Ground-growers had a tendency to effect the state of their parents’ poor gardens, the flowers dying and reviving as often as the child’s mood swings occurred, Wind-weavers’ sneezes could send them and others skyrocketing into the air, Flame-former tantrums were infamous, leading to many a scorched floor and fire-proofed home, and River-runners’ colds had a habit of literally freezing over whole smials. 

Luckily, Bilbo had already gone through the emotional stages of a developing Gift, so he didn’t have to worry about any unforeseen bouts of power drawing him any unwanted attention. But not using his Gift and just keeping the fire-proof gloves on for long periods of time tended to leave Bilbo feeling quite awful, so he had to sneak off more than he already was to begin with. This of course lead to the dwarves to be even more suspicious of him. 

Dwarves were quite the hypocrites, Bilbo thought. They kept dozens of their own secrets and Bilbo just keeps one and they have the gall to act offended. Admittedly, Bilbo’s secret was a rather large one, but that didn’t make the situation any less annoying.

Luckily, Bilbo had quite a good excuse for his sneaking off in that when he returned, he always smelled faintly of smoke - he was still _learning_ , after all and accidents do happen - so more often than not, the dwarves just believed that Bilbo preferred to smoke his pipe alone, for whatever reason. Or maybe they thought that whatever ‘condition’ Gandalf made up for him required him to smoke to alleviate it? Well whatever they believed, Bilbo figured it was better than them knowing the truth. His Gift was proving to be quite testy and there were already incidents that could’ve lead to his exposure.

One such incident was when there was a lack of space at their campsite one night. Because of this, everyone had to press rather close together when it came time to lay down their bedrolls and dear Ori, bless him, was one of the only dwarves to voluntarily move his cot closer to the strange hobbit. Bilbo didn’t mind being lumped together so closely, even though he was a little insulted that most of the Company still did not trust him. But, Bilbo quite missed cuddles with his kin and he quite liked Ori as well as he was one of the few dwarves who was actually _friendly_ towards him, so Bilbo gladly welcomed Ori to his side, meeting the young dwarf’s timid smile with an honest one of his own.

Soon everyone had settled in for the night and for quite a while, Ori had tried to remain polite and leave Bilbo his space, but it _was_ a cramped area and it was only inevitable that they ended up pressed against one another at some point.

“Durin!” Ori cried softly when he had shifted and finally made contact with Bilbo’s side. It wasn’t a cry of fright, more so one of genuine surprise. Before he could even ask what was wrong, Bilbo soon had a surprisingly large Dwarven hand pressed against his forehead. “Bilbo, you’re quite warm.” Ori noted with concern.

“Don’t tell me he’s sick?” Dori asked worriedly from the other side of his brother, though whether his worry was for Bilbo or his brother or himself, Bilbo did not know.

Bilbo also wasn’t sure if he was in fact sick or not until he remembered that, oh yes, Flame-formers did tend to have higher natural body temperatures than other hobbits, Gifted or no. At least, that is what his father always said of he and his mother. His father had said that his mother gave off a warmth akin to a hearth while Bilbo’s was more ‘cozy’, like that of a candle. However, it seemed Bilbo’s new spike in power led to his temperature becoming much more noticeable, like his mother’s - or, if Ori’s reaction was anything to go by, maybe even hotter.

“Oh, I’m fine.” Bilbo quickly assured with a nervous laugh, once his mouth had finally caught up to his brain.

There was then a bit of a commotion in the camp as news of Bilbo’s high temperature spread. Some dwarves were worried for Bilbo, some were worried about themselves catching sick, and _some_ were concerned with how much more of a hindrance Bilbo could become (Thorin, namely).

Bilbo then quickly came up with a cover.

“Hobbits, just...run warm.” he lied (rather poorly).

That then lead to each and every dwarf doubting his words and subsequently reaching out and touching and-or grabbing some part of him, unprompted - which was quite _rude_. They all then proceeded to be surprised when he was indeed warmer than they had anticipated. They doubted his claims of not being ill and some even kept more of a distance from him to ward off the chances of catching sick themselves, but a few days later, when Bilbo was still right as rain, they finally believed him.

This situation then lead to Bilbo’s cot being placed in the middle of any given sleeping arrangement, as if the dwarves were using him as a personal hot water bottle. He didn’t mind so much. It was nice that they felt comfortable enough to be close to him physically, especially when they were at their most vulnerable and asleep, but dwarves were quite demanding, Bilbo swiftly realized. He could hardly ever spend a night alone now. 

He had laid with the younger Ri Brothers a few times with Nori and Ori pressed against a side each, Fili and Kili more often than naught, the two princes blatantly throwing their limbs over him as the clung to him like leeches for warmth, and Bofur and Bifur a few times, which usually ended in Bilbo waking up in the morning within Bifur’s clutches to a grouchy and cold Bofur. Gandalf of course was of no help and merely laughed at the poor hobbit’s plights.

It was then Bilbo had realized that he was quite lucky in that he could easily explain any queer thing about him by just saying it was a Hobbit quirk and the dwarves would believe it. And, it wouldn’t necessarily be a lie either.

Bilbo had hoped that this would’ve lead to the dwarves maybe trusting in him more. They were still highly suspicious of Bilbo due to his strange behavior and the mere fact that he was an outsider, but he had hoped that their proximity and time together would’ve helped to close the cultural divide.

As it happened, however, Bilbo was foolish to think so. Rivendell and the events after had proven that.

It was a lovely city - one straight out of the bedtime stories his mother used to tell him - and Bilbo spent quite a lot of time walking around, admiring the lush gardens and beautiful architecture. 

To Bilbo’s understanding, Elves possessed _some_ magic, but it was unlike that of Hobbits’, so Bilbo was rather blown away by their floral and architectural design. The city was all the more impressive knowing Elves didn’t have the same magic as Ground-growers and yet they could still create such dazzling sites. It made Bilbo wonder what Hobbits would be capable of if they used their Gifts for such things and it also made him wonder why his people had never even _tried_ anything more than smials, houses, and simple gardens? The Elven design blew anything hobbits could create out of the water, magic or no.

Bilbo felt the irrepressible urge to take in as much of the city as he could so every time he ran across a new face, he’d chatter, babbling on and on to whatever poor elf he found about how much he enjoyed all he was seeing and hope it would prompt them into sharing some interesting facts and history.

The elves gave him some strange looks but once Bilbo got to talking, they were quite friendly and helpful. The Lord Elrond especially was much more amicable than Bilbo could’ve ever predicted. The Elven-lord wasn’t as openly confused by the hobbit as the other elves seemed to be, but Elrond came to be one of the most wise and friendly of beings that Bilbo had ever met. Elrond made it a point to speak to Bilbo directly whenever possible and the two would have rather frivolous conversations, but they were highly pleasant. 

Once the other elves had seen that their lord was trusting of the strange creature, it didn’t take long for the others to follow suit and Bilbo realized that Elves were actually quite down to earth and pleasant to speak with, and it seemed that they thought the same of him as well. It was nice to know that his charm didn’t just work on other Hobbits but the fairer race as well. He just needed to work on Dwarves and it seemed that his new association with the elves wasn’t helping anything if the Company’s glares and sneers were anything to go by…

It was a pity too, for Bilbo thought that he had finally had a breakthrough with Thorin. 

One night during his explorations of Rivendell, Bilbo happened to overhear a conversation between Lord Elrond and Gandalf and learned a bit more of the exiled king’s bloodline, specifically the madness plaguing it. Thorin had also overheard the conversation, seeing as he had been behind Bilbo, unbeknownst to the hobbit, of course - whether he was snooping on Bilbo or the Elves or both, Bilbo had no idea. But once they had both heard what Gandalf and Elrond were discussing, Bilbo and Thorin then had an admittedly quite lovely chat. Thorin told the hobbit an abridged version of his ill-fated family’s history, but he also told of some of their high moments, their moments of splendor and mighty deeds. The dwarf spoke of crystal caves and fireflies and Bilbo was enchanted. 

Though he knew Thorin was most likely only telling the hobbit all of this because he was merely trying to defend himself against Elrond’s rather negative opinions, Bilbo couldn’t help but feel that maybe Thorin also felt comfortable enough to share a different, less reserved side of himself with Bilbo. 

Of course, Bilbo had all his hopes of a good relationship with Thorin smothered after the Company (sans Gandalf) left Rivendell and the incident with the Stone Giants occurred. After that, Thorin made his opinions on Bilbo quite clear.

That had been the final straw. Bilbo had decided that he had had enough of meddling wizards and spiteful, untrusting and untrustful dwarves so he was set to leave. He quietly readied his pack and readjusted his gloves and decided that he would just ignore the awful feeling and smother his Gift back into submission, try and forget it was even there, and put this whole ordeal behind him.

Fate, of course, had other plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The bit about Wind-weavers sneezing and launching themselves into the air is of course a gag from _Avatar: The Last Airbender_.  
> *Bilbo and Elrond’s interactions/relationship are based off of [a scene](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JobZ2YDcvlc) from the Extended Edition of _An Unexpected Journey_.  
> *The firefly scene mentioned is a deleted scene, never before seen. Richard Armitage spoke about it in an interview which is why people know it exists. It would’ve taken place in Rivendell, which is why I’ve included it here.  
> \----  
> A bit of lore about being a Gifted, a Gift tends to stay within in a family. So, if your mother/father or grandmother/father or great grandmother/father was a River-runner, you’d have a higher chance of being one too. Gifts also stay within a family as in certain families tended to produce certain kinds of Gifts. For instance, Tooks are mostly Wind-weavers and Flame-formers with the other two Gifts being not quite as common but still present. Or, a lack of a Gift could also be hereditary. For example, the Baggins Family is known to often produce Missed hobbits.
> 
> If you have any questions about Gifts or what not, feel free to ask! If I can answer without being too spoilery, I’d love to! 
> 
> And thank you for the interest in this fic! Unlike my other monster of a fic, I intend to try and keep this one pretty brief (in comparison, lol). Next chapter, Bilbo takes a stand.


	4. Chapter 4

Bilbo had had quite enough of whatever deity or mystical force or _whatever_ it was that was controlling his life. He was quite sure that they were having a right good laugh at him.

The Goblin Tunnels were beyond frightening and that Gollum fellow was even more so, but Bilbo was shockingly able to manage both without the aid of his Gift - though not without the aid of a funny little ring. 

In fact, the ring came at quite an opportune time since Bilbo had just sworn off using his abilities moments before the floor in the cave had given out from underneath the Company. He had sworn off even acknowledging his Gift because for one, it was far too risky to try and use it in front of all these hostile goblins. And two, Bilbo was just feeling rather spiteful of it at the moment. It had landed him in far too much trouble already.

When he found the Company again - _they were all alive, and Gandalf was with them!_ \- the ring was still keeping him invisible so he was able to overhear Thorin’s once again less than stellar opinions on him. Well, Bilbo showed him with his honest reply. 

_‘I miss my books. And my armchair. And my garden. See, that's where I belong. That's home. That's why I came back, 'cause you don't have one. A home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can.’_

And he meant it. Every word of it. He also meant what he didn’t say out loud, what he swore to himself;

_By any means necessary._

* * *

They were running again. They were always running, it felt like. But, that’s what happens when someone is always chasing you.

They were herded like cattle to a cliff covered in pine and when they had no where else to go, they did the only thing they could do. They climbed. Bilbo hadn’t climbed a tree in ages and these trees were far larger than any he had grown up with in his part of the Shire, but apparently, tree climbing was one of those skills that you didn’t loose over time.

Gandalf had the idea of hurling flaming pine cones at the orcs that gathered down below them, which was a fine idea until Bilbo realized that the flames would inevitable catch up to their very flammable refuge. All the orcs had to do was wait it out and the fire would do their work for them. 

Still, Bilbo wasn’t one to not do his part in a time of trouble, so he removed his gloves, trying to suppress the full-body shudder that racked his body as he felt the now-familiar pulsation beneath his skin come to life. He tried to ignore the pleasant feeling of freedom and the thrum of anticipation that suddenly rushed through him upon removing the smothering leather and put himself to work. 

Bilbo threw down as many carefully aimed pine cones as possible, making sure his throws were precise and, as a form of insurance, he used his Gift to make sure that when the pine cone hit an orc, the fire spread. And thankfully everyone was so caught up in their own tasks and peril that no one had noticed that Bilbo didn’t need the help of a dwarf or wizard to light his projectiles. 

Though things quickly progressed from bad to worse when their trees started to fall into one another like dominoes and the Company were all forced to flee into just one, some dwarves barely holding on for dear life to a branch that dangled them over the cliff. They had reached the end of their luck, it seemed.

And that’s when _he_ showed up. The one everyone was hoping they’d never have to see, whether it be again or at all. 

The Pale Orc was _massive_. Far larger than any of the other orcs who were under his command. And his mount, a white, snarling warg was equally as terrifying. Especially when it had Thorin in its maw.

The exiled king had ran at Azog in what seemed a fit of pure rage. But not even Thorin’s raw fury was enough to aid him against such a foe. After a valiant effort, he fell. And he did not get back up. 

Perhaps it was the fact that no one else was able? Perhaps it was because of the promise he had made shortly before? Perhaps it was the growing inferno that surrounded them that seemed to be echoing somewhere within him? Whatever the reason, Bilbo had acted. 

He threw himself at the orc that had approached Thorin, driving his sword through its stomach. Taking his first life. Though it felt odd for him to take any form of life, all he had to do was look to Thorin and something within him buzzed and blazed pleasantly. He had taken a life, but he did it to _protect_. 

However, he was just one hobbit. He couldn’t be expected to take on an orc horde all on his own. Luckily, Bilbo had apparently inspired the other dwarves who were able into action and they came to their aid. However, Bilbo and Thorin were still far from everyone else.

The two were quickly being surrounded. Bilbo placed himself in front of the downed dwarf as best he could but there was only so much ground to be covered. They needed more protection. A perimeter. A barrier…

And then Bilbo knew what he had to do. He wasn’t sure where the exact idea came from or how he knew how to pull it off, but he suddenly had a solution. He’d have to play it down though. Make it look like something inadvertent. 

Bilbo threw himself to the ground, shielding himself and Thorin as best he could. To anyone else, it looked like he was cowering. But Bilbo - and Gandalf suspectedly - knew exactly what had happened.

It was difficult to describe, but as soon as Bilbo hit the ground, he _called out_ to the surrounding flame, asking it for control. 

The response was instantaneous. 

The flames nearest to Bilbo and Thorin seemed to congest and like a wave from a stormy sea, they crawled over the landscape, crashing over the orcs that were approaching the hobbit and dwarf king. The orcs shrieked and the ones that had caught afire fled, but those that remained were startled back by the fiery circle that now surrounded their targets. 

Bilbo looked up from where he had buried his face in Thorin’s chest (he’ll have time to be embarrassed about that later) and looked on in amazement and surprise over his own actions. He then spared a moment to feel stupid. There was no way that looked as inconspicuous as he had hoped. But those that were looking too closely were now shrieking in pain as their skin began to melt and the bonfire that seemed to dwell within Bilbo buzzed pleasantly and contently, feeling fed by the surrounding flames and less condensed now that it’s Giftbearer had set it free. The sedated feeling of letting his Gift loose seemed to outweigh any feeling of regret.

Now that he had bought them some time and the others were making do keeping the other orcs at bay, Bilbo turned his attention back to the dwarf laying underneath him.

Firstly, Bilbo had picked himself up from where he had draped himself over Thorin and started his assessment. The dwarf had not woken since this ordeal had started, not to Bilbo’s knowledge. The bite wound on his chest looked bad, but Thorin was breathing, and that had to count for something, right? Yet his breathing was labored. Thorin needed something to help alleviate him of his pain and fast, otherwise it wouldn’t be long until he succumbed to it. 

And Bilbo knew that he could help do that. He could ease Thorin’s pain. In theory. 

All Gifted hobbits had a form of healing magic but very few could actually utilize it. To top it off, Flame-formers couldn’t heal as well as the other Gifts. They couldn’t fully revive and heal like River-runners or grow herbs and flowers that could be used for medicine like Ground-growers or make someone _think_ they were healed like Wind-weavers, but they could ease someone of their pain quite substantially. In fact, Bilbo’s mother had done it for him from time to time when he was a faunt and took a harsh tumble. Of course, she had healed his scrapes and cuts, not gaping bite wounds. But, he reasoned that taking away even just a little bit of Thorin’s pain was better than nothing.

And of course, Bilbo had never tried to heal anyone before, but he took a look at the circle of fire that was still surrounding them and thought of the warmth that was still very much alive within him and figured that it wouldn’t hurt to try. He had been surprising himself a lot, lately, after all.

It would have been better if he had direct contact with the wound but there wasn't any time to remove Thorin’s armor and even if Bilbo did have time, it would have looked highly suspicious, so he’d just have to leave it on and hope it wouldn’t hinder the healing process too badly.

Knowing vaguely what he had to do, Bilbo placed both his hands upon Thorin’s chest, his bare palms pressing into the wound and being warmed by not just his own internal heat but by the dwarf’s thick, sticky blood. Bilbo felt bile sting his throat. 

Upon his touch, Thorin groaned in pain, which was better than him being completely silent, wasn’t it? Though he was disoriented and Bilbo felt the dwarf try and resist his touch. That wouldn’t do.

“Shhh.” Bilbo eased in a soft whisper. “Lie still.” he ordered as applied pressure to the wound, ignoring the feeling of blood seeping between his fingers and instead offering murmured words of comfort to the dazed dwarf. 

Now he had to go about healing him, which would be tricky. He didn’t want to go overboard and accidentally burn Thorin, so he needed to focus. Heat healing required a deal of restraint and control. And as he’s said, he had never done such a thing before, but if there was ever a time to try, it was now, when someone he admired greatly needed it. 

Bilbo closed his eyes, tuning out all the chaos that was unfolding around him and solely focused on calling to his Gift. He wasn’t exactly sure if he was doing it correctly, but he could feel a heat pooling in his hands, and Thorin had suddenly ceased his weak struggling so Bilbo took it as a good sign.

What came next was a little tricky. His mother had been able to make the heat she applied to his hurts linger there somehow. She had never explained how to do it to him, but he took his best stab at it and focused once again on the heat in his hands. He took a deep breath in and then… _pushed,_ but his hands remained still. He had sent the heat in his hands outwards and away and hopefully to Thorin. 

For a moment, Bilbo thought he had failed until he heard Thorin let out a sigh and his breathing turned even. 

Bilbo let out the breath of his own that he didn’t know he had been holding. He was feeling a bit woozy, as if all the blood had rushed to his head. He lifted his hands from Thorin’s chest and wiped them off as best he could and took a few steadying breaths. The lightheadedness eventually faded and by the time it did, Bilbo suddenly had other things to focus on. 

He suddenly remembered just what kind of situation he was in and looked up from the dwarf king, and the first thing his eyes had met was the intent, intimidating stare of the Pale Orc, the only thing reflected in his black eyes being the firelight. Bilbo felt a shudder run through him.

But then he heard a loud screech, unlike any of the others had had heard previously. No, this wasn’t a goblin or an orc. It sounded like…

And before Bilbo even had a chance to finish the thought, some instinct within him told him to duck. He rolled out of the way just as a giant talon reached down and grabbed Thorin from where Bilbo had left him, the creatures massive wings making quick work of quelling Bilbo’s flames. Soon Bilbo himself was carried off and rescued along with the others by creatures Bilbo had never even dreamed of being real before. 

He tried to ignore the ill feeling that grew within him when he recalled the Pale Orc’s intent stare and instead turned his attention to Thorin, who he would much rather exchange looks with any day. He didn’t care how harsh or intimidating the dwarf could be. Bilbo just wanted to see him awake. _Alive._

* * *

Thorin did wake once the Eagles had deposited the Company atop the carrocks, after a little help from Gandalf, that is.

Imagine Bilbo’s surprise when he was the first thing that Thorin had asked about once he was conscious. He said some harsh things, but then he said something that completely changed things for Bilbo.

_‘I have never been so wrong in all my life.’_

And then he _hugged_ him. And it was...it was the most _enveloped_ Bilbo had ever felt and it was _delightful_. Whatever regret Bilbo might have had regarding his use of power faded away entirely.

He had nearly pushed himself to the limit. He had risked exposure of not only himself but his people. He had used his Gift to harm and to _kill_.

But it was worth it. And he would do it again if it meant keeping Thorin, the Company, his _friends_ safe.

**END OF BOOK 1**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story’s not over, but our first “Book” is. Book 2, aka events that happen within Desolation of Smaug will still be posted under this story name.
> 
> Thank you for your support and interest in this fic! Comments are greatly appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With his new change in skill, Bilbo begins reflecting on the status quo. However, as a certain Wizard is swift to point out, there are very good reasons as to why these kinds of standards exist in the first place.

**BOOK 2: The Desolation of Smaug**

They had made it to momentary safety thanks to the Eagles, but they weren’t in the clear yet. They had only a few hours of reprieve before Azog and his orcs were hot on their trail once more. As Thorin’s wounds were properly seen to by Oin and the dwarves marvled at how little pain their leader was in and how the wounds were already starting to close, Bilbo couldn’t keep the smile off his face. His attempt at healing had worked! Even better than he could’ve imagined. 

Gandalf, however, seemed less than thrilled for whatever reason. As he looked at Thorin’s chest and then to Bilbo, he frowned, his bushy brows furrowing so much that it seemed as though his eyes were closed. He then crossed the rocky landscape with shocking speed and pulled Bilbo aside, shoving another pair of gloves into his hands. Bilbo wondered momentarily how many pairs the wizard had hidden away.

“That was incredibly brave, Bilbo Baggins, but also incredibly foolish.” Gandalf said in a harsh murmur. “As soon as the moment presents itself, you and I will share words. Until then, make yourself _inconspicuous_.” he practically hissed.

Now Bilbo frowned. He thought he’d done well, Gandalf had said as much. But what was he so upset about? The dwarves were all safe and none were any the wiser as to just what exactly Bilbo had done. Matter of fact, they thought that _Gandalf_ had been the one to help heal Thorin, reasoning he must’ve done it when he said that little spell to wake him up.

However, before Bilbo could bring up these very strong contentions with the wizard, Thorin was already ordering for the Company to move out. The carrock was steep and Azog was undoubtedly starting to pick up their trail by now. 

With a vow to bring up his grievances with Gandalf later, Bilbo had slid the gloves on over his hands, trying to ignore the fact that it was now more uncomfortable to put them on than it was to have them off.

They made it to the woodlands below the carrock but by the time they did, the orcs had indeed already found their approximate location. The Company took to stealthily moving throughout the forest, but Dwarves weren’t known for their sneaking. Someone else needed to do so. 

Bilbo had earned the Company’s trust and what seemed to be their admiration, but he wished that didn’t mean that he’d also have to act as their scout.

But he did their task and he watched cautiously for their pursuers and that’s when he saw it. A massive bear, seemingly glaring and snarling at the orcs. It wasn’t just the animal’s large teeth or frightening behavior that startled Bilbo however. There was something else...something unnamable about the bear. Bilbo looked to it and felt that there was something more to the animal than he was seeing, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what it was. 

That is, he couldn’t until they arrived at the house of Gandalf’s acquaintance, who just so happened to _be_ the mysterious monstrous bear.

Beorn was a Skin-changer and though he couldn’t be any more different than a Hobbit, Bilbo couldn’t help but feel they were connected, in a sense. Kindred spirits. Beorn possessed an ability that no other creature in Middle-earth seemed to. A skill one would call magic, or at least something akin to it. The magic of the Elves was more ethereal, but Hobbit magic came from the earth (at least, that is what his people believed). Beorn’s Gift - if you could call it that - seemed to be linked to nature, just as Bilbo’s. Bilbo had never even heard of any other creature who possessed such a like skill, so he was quite fascinated with their reluctant host.

Beorn, though a reluctant host he may be, was a rather gracious one. He (eventually) welcomed them all into his home, giving them access to all his amenities and food as well. The orcs would not go anywhere near Beorn’s house for some reason, so the Company was using the time to take a much needed break. Though Thorin and a great many other dwarves seemed opposed to the idea. But that was besides the point. The point was, they finally had some down time and so, Gandalf and Bilbo used this time to have their overdue chat.

They went to Beorn’s gardens, the dwarves all off on the other side of the grounds, polishing their weapons or whatever it was they did in their spare time. As Gandalf took out his pipe and stuffed the chamber with herbs, abnormally-sized bees buzzed contently from flower to flower. Bilbo had long since already lit his own pipe and was smoking leisurely when a somewhat cheeky thought crossed his mind. Thinking it was high time the Wizard got some comeuppance for all the trouble he’s brought Bilbo so far, the hobbit brought his hand over to Gandalf’s pipe and snapped his fingers, causing a steady flame to appear in the crook of his thumb and index finger.

Gandalf looked to the offered flame in mild surprise before he ceased his own movements to create his own. “Ah, yes, thank you, my boy.” he said graciously as he allowed Bilbo to light the chamber, the herbs within catching and crinkling as they burned.

“You’re welcome.” Bilbo returned with a grin as he extinguished the light.

“Hmmm.” Gandalf hummed on his pipe as he looked to Bilbo’s now flameless fingers. “You’re getting quite good at that, aren’t you? Beyond your previous capabilities, I presume?” he noted.

“I think so.” Bilbo answered as he looked down to his own hands, calling forth a small flame to form at the tip of his right index finger, before he decided to get a little showboaty and caused the flame to travel from finger to finger, eventually settling for a small flame at the tip of each, as if his digits were the candlesticks used in the little tricks he had mastered as a lad.

“ _Hmm._ ” Gandalf hummed again, his brows raised in mild surprise and something akin to satisfaction. “ _Quite_ good, indeed...” he muttered.

“It’s strange,” Bilbo observed, eyes still locked on the five tiny lights. With an ease he could’ve never imagined before, Bilbo then had the flames slide down his fingers until they converged in his palm, now one plum-sized mass in the center of his hand, dancing steadily. “it’s almost as if something within me has… _sparked_. And not only that, but _staying_ lit. Pardon the awful metaphor.”

If Bilbo thought Gandalf looked surprised before, he definitely did now, his bushy brows disappearing underneath the rim of his hat. “I don’t think that’s a bad way of putting it…” he trailed, sounding as if he were about to plunge deep into thought.

Those silences could stretch on for ages, so Bilbo decided to bring up some of his current worries. “There’s been a change in me, Gandalf. I don’t know any other way to put it.” he sighed, closing his fist, the flame swiftly smothered. “You’ve never encountered anything like this before, have you?”

Properly kept from his musings, Gandalf looked to Bilbo once more and plainly answered, “My boy, I can confidently say that I’ve never encountered anything quite like _Hobbits_ before.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “I meant with Gifts, Gandalf. Mine developing this late...at this rate, it’s quite queer, wouldn’t you say?”

“Hm.” Gandalf hummed, his tone sounding...off.

Bilbo then looked to him, feeling suspicious. “Did you know this would happen?” he asked accusingly.

“Hm?”

“When you recruited me for this adventure, you asked about my Gift. If I were still a Flame-former…” Bilbo suddenly recalled. “Did you suspect my skills would grow like this?”

Gandalf’s jaw clicked as he opened his mouth, flashing his tongue as he ran it over his teeth before closing his lips around the pipe again. He huffed, smoke streaming from his nostrils before he began, “When Thorin first came to me with his half thought out plan, I thought of you for the task because I sensed great potential in you, Bilbo. Not just in your Gift, but in your _self._ However, that’s not to say that when considering you and your abilities that I didn’t think that a little _nudge_ in the right direction wouldn’t… _spark_ something...

“Tell me, my boy,” Gandalf continued. “Did you ever think that perhaps your skills hadn’t developed further than they ever did because you didn’t _need_ them to?”

This caused Bilbo to pause. “What do you mean?”

Gandalf blew out another plume of smoke before he drew his pipe away from his mouth and continued, “Hobbits have long since considered their Gifts as tools. If I recall correctly, is it not uncommon for Ground-growers to be successful farmers? Or Wind-weavers silver-tongued leaders? Or River-runners excellent healers? Or—”

“What exactly is your point, Gandalf?” Bilbo interrupted, a little too impatient to currently stand the roundabout way the wizard had of saying plain things.

“My _point,_ Bilbo, is that you think that those individuals are their professions because of their skills. But have you ever thought of it the other way around? That maybe they were skilled because of their professions?” he posed.

Bilbo raised a brow. “What’re you saying? That their Gifts are as strong as they are because...because they _have_ to be, in order for their professions to work?”

“Preciously!” Gandalf smiled proudly. “Well, in a way. If the greatest need you’ve ever had for a fire never went beyond needing a kettle to boil or a hearth to light, then your Gift wouldn’t need to be as strong as those who, who work with forges and the like, wouldn’t you agree?”

Bilbo looked down to his hand, studying it as if he were seeing it for the first time. “That’s why I’ve been improving. Why I was able to heal…” he realized.

“Yes,” Gandalf started, sounding more grave than he had for the entirety of their conversation. “which is precisely what I wished to discuss with you.”

Bilbo looked back up. “Discuss what?”

“I understand that a Gift’s development can be a difficult thing to manage at times, which is why I’ve been lenient with your little slip-ups thus far,” the wizard began, tone lecturing, as if Bilbo were a faunt who had snuck into the food stores. “but you should not have acted the way you did that day on the cliffs. Not in front of the Dwarves and _certainly_ not in front of the Orcs.”

At the reminder of the Pale Orc’s harrowing stare in his direction, Bilbo repressed a shudder. “Alright, the Pale Orc I understand. It was foolish.” he admitted but then an image of a pierced, struggling for breath Dwarven-king came to mind and squashed any feeling of fear for himself. “But I could help. I _did_ help. What did you expect me to do, just leave things be?”

“When your secret could be compromised, I do.” Gandalf answered without hesitation or absence of slight scorn.

That threw Bilbo into a right tizzy. “But this is why you brought _me,_ Gandalf, isn’t it? _Because of_ my Gift. If not, then why not a Man, or an Elf, or another Dwarf? Why a Hobbit, if not to use his Gifts when he can?”

Gandalf shot him what could’ve only been a look of _pity_. “You have a noble heart, Bilbo Baggins, but your people have the right idea with keeping their Gifts a secret.” he began, stretching to his full height in his seated position. “There are many of those in Middle-earth who would leap at the chance to obtain such a power, even if it meant having to enslave those who possess it.”

Upon Gandalf’s words, an image of the iron clasps on Beorn’s wrists and ankles flashed in Bilbo’s mind followed by that same stare Azog gave him. “T-That’s…” Bilbo choked out, the words sounding strangled even to his own ears.

Gandalf shot him a sympathetic look. “I don’t mean to frighten you, my friend.” he said sympathetically as he placed a large, comforting hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “I just wish to advise you to use more caution. Your Gift can help you, yes. But to be so blatant with it is...Well, it is ill advised. _Very_ ill advised, indeed.”

Bilbo supposed that was true but...he had just very recently stopped feeling so useless. To stand back now, just as their quest was becoming more and more dire, seemed not only stupid but...selfish. And besides, “Would it be so bad for the Dwarves to know? They wouldn’t...I don’t think that they’d...They wouldn’t...”

“No.” Gandalf said, seeming to pick up on Bilbo’s exact fear and dissuading him of it quickly. “But I fear they will not take it well. They’re a superstitious lot, you know?”

Which Bilbo knew to be right. Dwarves liked their secrets, almost as much as Hobbits did, but surely things would go along much more smoothly if Bilbo could assist in a more prominent way, especially now since his skills were improving? 

“But surely it would help them to trust me? How can I be a valued member of the Company if they don’t trust me? If I hadn’t used my Gifts on the cliff face then—”

“Things would’ve been handled, regardless. I had everything under control, I assure you.” Gandalf sniffed rather toitedly.

Was he being genuine? Was he even at the same battle? Those bloody Eagles had barely came in time! Bilbo voiced as much, “No, you didn’t! If I hadn’t stepped in, Thorin would still be a toothpick for that great white beast!” he exclaimed, his pent up frustration causing him to shoot up from his seat. “I controlled that fire, Gandalf. I called to it and it _listened_. Do you have any idea what it's like to be able to do something like that and then have to suppress it, day in and day out? Imagine what I could do if I didn’t have to hide? If I could use my Gift to its fullest?”

Gandalf frowned, looking unsurprised by Bilbo’s bold statement, but no less displeased by it. “No.” he simply said.

“But I could use them in a less blatant way in front of others! If the Dwarves knew, they could, they could help me in a way where my actions could be concealed. We could—”

“No, Bilbo.” Gandalf interrupted again, standing up to his full, towering height. A move Bilbo recognized as something he did when he wanted his smaller companions to listen to him. To _intimidate_ them. Something within the hobbit flared in an ugly way. “The Dwarves cannot know. Must never know.” the wizard continued.

“But think of what trouble you could be inviting by keeping them in the dark?”

Gandalf huffed, casting his eyes to the sky as he reiterated, “Think of the trouble _you_ could be inviting by bringing them to light! You have to keep your Gift a secret, Bilbo. You cannot—”

“No! _You_ can’t make that decision for me!” Bilbo snapped as he clenched his fists, something within him just bursting at the seams and before he even registered it, Gandalf was stepping back in alarm as flames fanned out around the riled hobbit.

Bilbo himself took a step or two backwards as he realized just what he had done, the ground around him scorched and the surrounding brush alight with flame. His eyes widened before he reached out in front of himself and killed the brushfire before drawing his prickling hands back to his body, keeping them close to his chest. He looked to Gandalf, who was currently patting his beard free of flame in a rather frantic manner.

“G-Gandalf. I-I…” Bilbo began, reaching a hand out to help before he thought better of it and drew his hand back. Still, he concentrated hard enough to at least smother the flames singeing the ends of the wizard’s robes. 

Gandalf looked up to him and before it was covered up by one of clear annoyance, Bilbo noticed a strange look in the wizard’s eyes. One of pure surprise. _Fright._

“I think it’d be best, Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf began, tone carefully neutral yet firm. “if you went and cooled off.” he finished and Bilbo could just tell with absolute certainty that the wizard thought that Bilbo had just proved his point. That he shouldn’t make his own decisions. Couldn’t be trusted to.

Bilbo’s eyes narrowed in anger, his fists clenched. Deep down, he knew the wizard was right, but Bilbo felt...he felt...wound up. Primed to burst again. His hands were prickling again in that annoying way they now did, but now it was to the point where it felt painful and his chest felt tight, as if he had inhaled too much from his pipe.

With a drawn out, frustrated yell - knowing fully well that he wouldn’t be able to smother the overflowing feelings within him - Bilbo focused and sent them all to his hand and threw it behind him as he turned away from the wizard, sending a ball of flame straight to the wizard and hobbit’s previous perch, the great stone left blackened by soot and smoke.

He felt Gandalf’s stare of disbelief and judgment as the hobbit stomped off, but Bilbo just ignored him as best he could. He made his way back to the area of Beorn’s grounds where everyone else seemed to be gathered, his foul mood no doubt visible as he stomped through the clearing and straight to their host. The dwarves fixed him with curious stares - he doubted that the latter half of he and Gandalf’s conversation had been quiet - but Bilbo ignored them too. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Beorn.” Bilbo started. Maybe it was because of Bilbo’s clipped tone, or because the Skin-changer could sense something off about the other, or maybe it was because he just simply liked the hobbit, but Beorn stopped his wood chopping and turned to Bilbo and fixed him with a questioning look. Bilbo cleared his throat, intimidated a fair amount but emotions still quite alight within, then muttered in a tone that the dwarves (hopefully) couldn’t pick up, “I was wondering if you - erm - had any spare firewood?”

Beorn’s stare turned searching for a moment, his great brown eyes narrowed in what had to have been a mix of confusion and distrust. For a moment, Bilbo thought that maybe he might chew him out or question him. But then, maybe he and Bilbo were kindred spirits after all, because after a few tense moments, Beorn bent down, grabbing the ends of a burlap sack before he handed it over to Bilbo. A quick peek inside confirmed it to be filled with misshapen wood chunks and shavings that certainly wouldn’t be missed.

“Thank you.” Bilbo said, genuinely grateful to which Beorn responded with what he guessed to be an understanding nod. The hobbit then drew the strings of the burlap closed once again and began pulling the quite hefty bag over to a new, discrete neck of the woods, as far from condescending Wizards and nosy Dwarves as he could get.

As if to prove his point, the Dwarves baffled looks all turned more judgemental as they watched the hobbit drag off his new possession.

“Where’re you going?” he heard who he thought to be Kili call out to him, undoubtedly the most (vocally) suspicious of the lot.

“To get the closest thing to a hot bath out here that I can.” he merely answered back, perhaps a bit snippily, which may be why none of his more companionable companions like Bofur or Balin offered to help him drag off his loot.

Bilbo was clearly tense. Agitated. Fiery.

If Gandalf wanted him to ‘cool down’, then that’s just what he’d do. Bilbo just needed to go and blow off some steam, so to speak.

* * *

_‘...a Gift’s development can be a difficult thing to manage…’_

Bilbo’s brows furrowed as he did his best to focus on his exercise. 

It was a simple one. One he had done a number of times in his youth, before he gave up on developing his Gift. Set up the candlesticks or twigs, stand a good distance away, focus on the wicks, light them, in any order or manner you please. 

Except this time, Bilbo could make _projectiles,_ apparently. Which would be quite handy if he could actually use them for something productive like defending. Then maybe the dwarves would trust him more.

_‘They’re a superstitious lot, you know?’_

Gandalf was right, in that regard, as much as Bilbo hated to admit it. The dwarves had strange habits. Never sharing stories of their history - or if they did, very vague ones - always slipping into their native tongue whenever they wanted to discuss something they didn’t want Bilbo to hear, for whatever reason. Which always left him miffed. 

Though it didn’t matter. They could keep their secrets. Bilbo certainly had his own.

As he drew his arm up, he felt the flames form at the tips of his fingers, just like before when he was showing off to Gandalf. Though instead of sending the fire down to his palm like before, he took aim, even closing one eye for good measure. He’s always been a ruddy shot, but maybe his Gift wasn’t the only thing that had improved over time.

He was only able to project before because Gandalf got him heated - quite literally - but if he just focused enough, he should be able to do this. This was a common skill for many Flame-formers, so there was no reason he shouldn’t be able to replicate it. Bilbo’s skill level was quickly reaching that of his fellow Gifted. Maybe even developing with the possibility of surpassing them. 

Whatever Bilbo’s Gift had turned into...whatever had _sparked_ in him...it was strong. He could feel it.

He took a deep breath in and then released it. With it, his hold on the flames released too.

It was such a quick motion that he would’ve missed it if he didn’t cast it himself, but the five flames at the tips of his fingers shot out and instantly transferred to the tips of the twigs he had lined up. After whipping into place, the flames now danced steadily on their new perch.

Bilbo lowered his arm, feeling a disbelieving laugh bubble up from his throat. “ _Yavanna…_ ” he said breathily, smile stretching across his face. 

Well, it looked as though he had now mastered another skill. 

He was getting good. Stronger. _Powerful._

And with that, he was given a horrible reminder.

 _‘There are many of those in Middle-earth who would leap at the chance to obtain such a power,’_ rang Gandalf’s words from earlier. _‘even if it meant having to enslave those who possess it.’_

_Shackles and scarred wrists. Black eyes reflecting firelight._

Bilbo actually gasped, feeling as if all of his breath had been siphoned from him. Used as fuel for the fire. But he knew that wasn’t right. Wasn’t possible. 

No, he was just nervous. Sick with regret because it had finally hit him - just how careless he was before. Because what he did - no matter how noble in the moment - had earned him _that_ stare.

_Intimidation. Interest. Intent._

Gandalf was right. Bilbo was a right _idiot._ He had compromised not only himself, but all other Hobbits.

For centuries - at the very least - his people have had their Gifts and not one single mishap had occurred or story had gotten out. Not one loose lipped Took or prideful Proudfoot had shown off to an outsider. Hobbits and their Gifts had remained unknown and unremarkable to all the world and in just one night, Bilbo might have mucked that all up. 

Of course he had. He never was a good Hobbit, was he? How could he be with his dreams far too big for a lad and expectations far too high for an old man and a Gift far too mediocre to be ordinary?

Ordinary. He had never been ordinary. He had always been odd. The one time he thought he was becoming something closer to a normal Flame-former - to a normal Hobbit - his Gift had to become all unmanageable like this? It had to _itch,_ and _screech,_ and _burn_ at him until he felt fit to burst? Because he couldn’t ever just be _ordinary_ now, could he? 

With a strangled yell of frustration that felt long overdue, Bilbo threw another fiery form and sent the burlap and the rest of its contents up into flame.

 _That’s_ when he finally heard the rustling of leaves.

Quick as a flash, he snapped his head in the sound’s direction, only to be met with a wide-eyed, open mouthed Kili, staring at him through the brush.

Immediately, because of some stupid instinct, Bilbo rapidly brought his arm down and closed his fist, the flames on the end of the twigs snuffed out as easily as the wicks they were imitating and the burlap’s blaze extinguished as if doused with water and then stomped upon. Which was a stupid move, in hindsight, since Bilbo had just killed all opportunity to deny any sort of coincidence.

If at all possible, Kili’s eyes then only widened further. “ _F-F-Fire._ ” he choked out, pointing straight at the smoking pile that was once the burlap’s blaze.

Bilbo spluttered, “K-Kili! This is...It’s...This isn’t—”

Kili’s finger then pointed straight at Bilbo. “You made a fire! With your hands!” he said, voice far too loud for Bilbo’s liking.

Bilbo shot his hands up, as if he were being accused of swindling. “I don’t—I don’t know what you mean.” he feigned before he looked to his gloveless hands, then quickly hid them behind his back, for some reason.

Kili only jabbed his finger at the hobbit again, brow furrowed and mouth forming an ‘o’, as if stunned by Bilbo’s audacity to deny. “Yes. Yes, you did. I just saw you!” he insisted rather petulantly.

Bilbo felt as if he had deflated, arms dropping to his sides. “Kili, please. I know what this may look like…” he began softly, placatingly, unsure where he was going with this excuse. Luckily, he didn’t have to.

“I knew it!” Kili exclaimed, sounding now more smug than surprised, flooring Bilbo.

“ _Pardon?_ ”

“I knew you were hiding something. Something strange!” Kili continued, stumbling rather ungracefully out from his bushy hiding place, brushing himself off carelessly before making a cautious approach to Bilbo. “All the sneaking around you’ve been doing...You and Gandalf’s weird exchanges...The trolls!” he _gasped,_ a bit loudly, as if he had realized something. “That big lout acted like you had burned him before he threw you at me because you _did!_ You _did_ burn him. And it wasn’t Gandalf who caused that fire to go mad. It was you!”

Bilbo was a little startled by how on-the-nose Kili was right now. He had always thought the lad a bit dense (as mean as that might’ve sounded). Apparently, his clear suspicion of Bilbo on their journey thus far had lead him to develop some rather keen eyes. 

Regardless, Bilbo began to protest, “W-Well, I—”

But Kili paid him no mind, actually _circling_ Bilbo as he looked the hobbit up and down. Inspecting him. As if he were seeing him for the first time. “And at the cliff! You messed around with the fire again, didn’t you? I thought it must've been the Eagles circling above or something before they swooped in, but it was you, wasn’t it? Fire can’t just—just _move_ like that. Not _naturally._ ”

Bilbo brought his hands up again, unable to help his nervousness as the dwarf drew nearer. “Kili, look, it’s—”

“Are you cursed?” Kili interrupted, sounding genuinely curious, head even tilting slightly and everything.

Bilbo’s hands dropped to his sides once more. “Excuse me?”

Kili continued on, as if it were utterly apparent, “Well, you’re obviously not a Wizard or an Elf, so you must be under some enchantment or something. Like the bear bloke.”

Bilbo’s brows furrowed. “Weren’t you listening when Gandalf scolded Dori for making that same accusation about _Beorn?_ He’s not cursed. And neither am I, for that matter.” he sniffed.

Kili looked surprised by such a fact, giving a frown that looked far too much like a pout than it should’ve. “Then how are you doing that? Making a fire out of nothing? Controlling it like it’s your breath?”

Bilbo was a fool to ever think that he could get away with this. With keeping his Gift a secret. Gandalf was right. _Again._ The others shouldn’t know. Their mistrust of Beorn, another creature with a natural, seemingly supernatural ability, should’ve been cause enough for Bilbo to just leave well enough alone, but _no._ He wanted to be useful. He wanted their trust, but they could never trust someone like him. With an inexplicable ability and a dangerous, uncontrollable one to boot.

“If not a curse, then what, Bilbo?” Kili prompted once more, drawing Bilbo from his thoughts. 

Bilbo looked away, feeling very much like he was being studied, not to mention defeated. “It’s just...something I can do.” he eventually muttered.

Kili stopped in his blatant eye-roving as they finally settled upon Bilbo’s face, trying unsuccessfully to meet the hobbit’s downcast eyes. “For how long?” the dwarf asked.

Finally, Bilbo sighed, resigned. There was no use denying anything now. Kili would run to the others and tell them what he saw, that there was dark magic in their midst. He’d be exposed, questioned, set out to dry. He might as well try and explain himself as best he could before the other’s jumped to their own conclusions. “Since birth, I suppose.” he eventually shrugged.

Kili then seemed like he understood. “Ah. Then your mother was cursed.” he stated.

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Bilbo bit. “My mother was perfectly ordinary, _thank you very much._

“Then how can you do…” KIli gestured vaguely with his hand. “That?”

“Kili, I...Maybe...Maybe it’d be best if you just leave…” Bilbo muttered as he began to riffle through his coat pocket. He best put himself into place before the others came and did it for him. He found what he was looking for quite easily and just as he began to slide the second glove over his hand, Kili latched onto his upper arm, pausing his actions with a strong grip. Startled, Bilbo looked up but the young dwarf wasn’t looking to him, but his hand.

“You’re warm...Like always.” Kili noted. Before Bilbo could question just what the dwarf wanted, he surprised Bilbo once again by placing his palm directly over the hobbit’s covered one. “Warm.” he said before he surprised Bilbo _again_ when he reached over with his free hand and pulled Bilbo’s glove off. He placed his palm against Bilbo’s once again and drew it back almost instantly. “Hot!” he exclaimed before he brought his hand back carefully, like a child approaching a hot stove. “Mahal. Can you do it again?” he asked, looking up to Bilbo with a grin, something akin to wonder alight in his eyes.

“Do...Do it again?” Bilbo repeated, a little confused by this turn of events. 

“Yes! Make a flame.” he clarified, sounding like an overexcited faunt.

For some reason - maybe because he’d was still a little pent up and nervous - Bilbo created a small fire in the center of his palm again, causing Kili to draw his own hand back in alarm as the flames licked his skin, just missing the mark of painful. 

“Incredible!” the dwarf breathed in another laugh, sounding amazed as he hovered his hand close, letting the fire warm his skin.

“You’re not...You’re not upset?” Bilbo queried nervously.

Kili finally drew his eyes away from the fire, seeming genuinely confused as he looked to Bilbo. “Why would I be upset?”

Bilbo just barely resisted rolling his eyes, killing the flame as he yanked his arm away from Kili’s grasp. “Well, a moment ago you thought I was cursed, so excuse my ‘needless’ concern.”

“Well, you’ve always been queer, Master Boggins, but at least now it’s got an explanation.” Kili answered so genuinely, that Bilbo almost wanted to cry. “So how do you do it?”

“I just do.” Bilbo answered lamely, feeling - for lack of a better word - shy. He wasn’t used to anyone marveling over his Gift in such a positive light. Back home, it was too weak and to Gandalf, it was too dangerous. He wasn’t used to...to whatever way Kili was apparently seeing it as. He cleared his throat, “It’s unpredictable sometimes, but I’ve been managing.”

Kili looked to the leather in his hands. “The gloves?” he asked.

“The gloves.” Bilbo nodded before he brought his gloved hand up. He concentrated on making a flame and was met with familiar resistance. With his free hand, he then pulled the glove free, the fire that Bilbo had been visualizing instantly shooting out from his palm before he reign it back into a more steady stream of flame, similar to the one he had created for the dwarf before. “The gloves they, they suppress it. Help manage it when it feels beyond my control. Not a surefire way to stop it, but good enough. Pun not intended.” he coughed.

“ _Wicked._ ” Kili grinned, looking to Bilbo’s hand once again before grabbing his arm below the wrist, turning it this way and that, as if looking for tells of an illusion or trick. “Can all Hobbits make fire?” he eventually asked when his closer observation turned up nothing.

“No.” Bilbo answered before he paused, feeling oddly...at ease. Later, he’ll blame the adrenaline of being caught on the loose-lipness that was to follow. “Some can. But...But some can do other things...” he trailed.

Kili’s head snapped up, looking the very definition of eager and curious. “What kinds of things?”

Bilbo still wasn’t sure what to make of Kili’s reaction but he didn’t feel like the lad was taking it poorly. And, he supposed he owed Kili an honest answer. After all, Bilbo wanted the dwarves to know, didn’t he? He should’ve known by now to be careful of what he wished for. 

“What I can do,” Bilbo started, letting the fiery stream die at his palm before he brought both his gloveless hands together. lighting a new flame and cradling it in his cupped hands, the firelight reflected in the young dwarf’s curious, awe-filled eyes. “my people, we call it a Gift…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Comments + suggestions are super appreciated!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and his new ally have an intruiging conversation.

As it turns out, having someone in the Company other than Gandalf in on his secret wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened to Bilbo.

Sure, Kili was a bit of a chatterbox and after his discovery, had spent hours without end asking Bilbo an endless array of questions (no doubt making their absence all the more suspicious to their other companions back at Beorn’s main grounds).

But Kili had good intentions. He was young and curious and didn’t so readily hold onto the prejudices of his older kin. Truly, Bilbo had lucked out, in terms of dwarves who could’ve found him out.

And so, Bilbo answered Kili’s questions honestly. And Bilbo didn’t just speak of Flame-formers. No, he told Kili all about River-runners and Wind-weavers and Ground-growers. And the lad wasn’t without his own insightful opinions.

“Dwarves are said to have been carved out of stone by Mahal himself, you know?” Kili had mentioned, sounding almost off handed.

“Mahal?” Bilbo repeated, familiar with the word but not its true meaning. Based off of previous context, he had assumed it was one of the Dwarves’ gods, but it wasn’t often his paranoid friends shared tidbits of their culture, so Bilbo was all ears.

Kili seemed to be unlike his kin in this regard as well, as he seemed to have no qualms with sharing, “The Maker. He’s one of the old gods.” he elaborated. “Ah, what’s the common word for Them…? One of the Valar?”

“Oh, you mean Aulë.” Bilbo suddenly recalled. “Yavanna’s husband.”

“Yes!” Kili said enthusiastically. “She’s sort of The Maker for Hobbits, isn’t She?” 

Now that was a loaded question. “Well, Hobbits don’t really know where we come from. To tell you the truth, I don’t think most folk really care to know. But Yavanna’s always been rather important to us. Not just because of the Gifting but because of all her creations that make up our lives. Like the animals and the plants that we use for food and garden and the land we use for our home and farm...That's why we refer to her as the Green Lady, mostly. Though there are some stories that refer to her as ‘The Gifter’.”

“Because She gave you your powers?” Kili inquired.

“More or less.” Bilbo shrugged. “It’s what we _think_ happened at least. Of course, it’s all just speculation born from generations upon generations of stories...Personally, I have no idea why a Vala would decide to grace Hobbits - a creature They hold no connection to, mind you - with some type of uncanny ability. To be quite frank, I’m not sure if I even really believe in all that.”

“You don’t believe in the Vala?” Kili asked, the mere notion seeming to surprise him. Not offend. Just, interest almost.

“I didn’t say that.” Bilbo had answered dryly. “Belief is...different for Hobbits. We of course believe that there’s something greater at work, something much greater than just ourselves, but ever so rarely do we ever stop to ponder the greater powers that be, as it were.”

Kili stared at him for a few long moments, as if contemplating Bilbo’s words, before he grinned. “You’re just a teensy bit melodramatic, aren’t ye?” 

“Jest all you want. It’s the truth.” Bilbo huffed. “Hobbits are a simple people. They like to live in the moment, I suppose.”

“You switch between ‘they’ and ‘us’, as if you sometimes think that you’re apart from your own people?” Kili noted, looking a mix between skeptical and amused.

Bilbo shrugged once more. “I don’t know. I’ve never fit in much, I suppose. I don’t know what I think.”

Kili hummed. “Well, in my opinion, the way I see it, if Mahal made the Dwarves and the Green Lady gave the Hobbits their presents—”

“ _Gifts._ ” Bilbo corrected.

“Right, _Gifts._ ” he amended before continuing without hesitance, “Wouldn’t that make Dwarves and Hobbits connected in a sense? You know, married? Like They are?”

Now it was Bilbo’s turn to look skeptical. “I don’t think two whole cultures can marry, lad…”

“No, no. Not literally, ‘course.” Kili quickly dissuaded. “No, I just mean, maybe that’s why we all like you so much?”

 _That_ made Bilbo pause. “You _like_ me?” he parroted, clear doubt lacing his tone. Well, they certainly had a funny way of showing it.

Kili had the audacity to roll his eyes. “Of course we like you, Bilbo.” he sighed. Then, as if he could read Bilbo’s thoughts, he cleared his throat and continued, “Sure, we might’ve pulled your leg a little too much at first but...Well, we Dwarves are pretty reclusive. The fact that you’re of another race and we not only keep you around, but _like_ having you around, well, it just speaks to your character.” he shrugged. “It’s like we can tell that we’re connected. Maybe Hobbits and Dwarves are kindred spirits, in a sense?”

Bilbo scoffed. “Now you’re sounding like Ori.”

Kili gave a light laugh in return. “Maybe. But I don’t think it all too unbelievable.” he said before he presented Bilbo with a somewhat resolute look. “So maybe, when the time comes - provided you’re ready - the others, they’ll understand your Gift. Know that it’s something that our Maker’s wife gave to your people? That maybe She meant for us - Dwarves and Hobbits - to cross paths? Maybe She knew that we’d need you?”

“That’s a nice thought.” Bilbo said with a small smile. “But...Do you think I _can_ tell the others?” he asked as he called forth a small fire to rest in his palm, drawing Kili’s eyes instantly. “Even you thought it…troubling.” he finished as he smothered the flame with a closing of his fist.

Kili looked up to him once more before pointedly avoiding his gaze, perhaps in thought. “That’s true. Like I said, maybe take your time with it? There are some who’ll handle it better than others. Us younger blokes would probably be your best bet. Ori especially I think would have endless thoughts on it. Also, he doesn’t really share Dori’s opinions on otherworldly queerness from what I can tell, so you shouldn’t be worried there. And Fee, well, he’d probably have a similar reaction to mine, may even take a little _visual_ convincing. But he won’t think it evil or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. As for the old folks...I don’t know. Maybe Bofur? He seems to like you well enough, so he won’t be turned off by it. Seems like an easygoing bloke too.”

“As insightful as these observations are,” Bilbo started, feeling a bit uneasy, for some unnamable reason. “I think...Well, I think I’ve had my fill of exposure for the time being…” he confessed.

“Fair enough.” Kili nodded understandably. “But, um, when - _if_ you decide to share with someone...I’d, well...maybe it’d be best to save Thorin for last? He’s just got a lot on his plate right now, is all. I’m not sure if he needs any more added...concerns.”

Bilbo let out another incredulous laugh. “Believe you me, lad. Thorin would be the last Dwarf I’d tell…”

And Bilbo meant it. Wholeheartedly. 

Though in the days following the confrontation with Azog and his forces Thorin had been much more amicable with Bilbo, he was still rather standoffish and Bilbo did not blame him. For one, he and Bilbo were quite unalike in every sense of the word, but more importantly, Thorin obviously had much greater things to concern himself with in these times of high tensity. 

Bilbo himself thought that though it felt rather freeing to have another of the Company know of his Gift, it just proved to Bilbo that he should wait for the right opportunity to reveal himself to the others to present itself. If that happened to be after the Quest, right in the throws of it, or possibly never then so be it. 

Though Bilbo did take Kili’s advice as to who he should tell into great consideration. He knew he had lucked out with Kili - one of the youngest and therefore most open minded of their group - being the one to discover his secret. Gandalf had said as much.

Because, right before the Wizard had left their Company at the Gates of Mirkwood, Bilbo had confessed to Gandalf about Kili’s finding out. 

Beforehand, Gandalf had said something about being sorry about their argument and to ‘leave Bilbo all on his own like this’ and Bilbo instead chose the opportunity to firstly, apologize, and then confess about his harsh words back in Beorn’s gardens.

At first, Bilbo thought he’d speak of the funny little ring he found in the Tunnels but for some reason unknown to even Bilbo himself, he didn’t. It just...seemed like something he didn’t want—need to share. Sort of inconsequential in the grand scheme of things...

So instead, he told Gandalf that Kili had caught him in the act of using his Gift and was now going to share in Bilbo’s secret. At this reveal, the Wizard looked promptly to Kili - who shot him a grin and a wink from his considerable distance away next to his confused brother - to which Gandalf merely huffed and muttered something about there being ‘worse other eavesdroppers’. 

And with that, they had parted ways and Bilbo was alone with the Dwarves, but not so alone as he and Gandalf had once feared. He had an ally and as it turns out, the Mirkwood is exactly the kind of place you’d want something like that.

Too bad _all_ of his companions had to go and get themselves captured firstly by some monstrous spiders and then, directly after, by some unhappy Elves.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything has it's limits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: There was a formatting issue that some of you early birdies might’ve noticed with paragraphs unintentionally being italicized. Should be fixed now!

The Mirkwood no doubt played tricks on everyone’s minds yet still, Bilbo did not trust the forest’s sickness enough to use it as cover in the name of using his Gift undetected. After all, flames in the wood, especially one as dense and ill as this, were never a good idea. 

Instead, he employed the strange ability of the ring, which allowed him to combat talking spiders and even slip past Elven defenses completely unseen. 

Though the ring wasn’t without its drawbacks. Bilbo wasn’t foolish enough to think that anything entirely pure would translate the speak of enemies or muddle his mind and the world so.

But still, Bilbo kept it on. After all, there’d be no possibility he’d last even a day in the Elven-king’s halls without it. However, he was sure to keep the ring on _over_ his gloves. For some unknown, mildly concerning reason, it didn’t feel right to...expose his Gift to it by allowing it to touch his skin. As silly as it may sound, there was some inexplicable, ill feeling that came over Bilbo whenever he wore the ring which he interpreted as a warning to not use his Gift. He didn’t need to. _Shouldn’t_ need to. And since his instincts regarding his Gift have never been false thus far, Bilbo decided to heed the warning.

And so, by using the ring and his own wits alone, Bilbo was able to navigate a way out of the Company’s tight situation in the Elven-king’s dungeons.

However, that wasn’t to say Bilbo’s master plan was without its hitches.

For one, the water of the Forest River was _dreadfully_ cold and Bilbo had the great misfortune of not having a barrel to ride in as they made their grand escape. His companions had held onto him as best they could, but there was only so close he could cling without running the risk of being crushed. 

And as if the Elves chasing after them wasn’t trouble enough, the Orcs had apparently caught up to them as well. So to put it simply, the river chase was not one of Bilbo’s fondest memories of this Quest, thus far. He doubted even a River-runner could’ve safely steered themselves out of that mess.

Feeling much like a drowned rat, Bilbo clawed his way onto shore and felt something he had not in a long time; chilled. It took a lot to get him cold, even before his Gift had developed. Flame-formers just naturally ran warmer, but if there was anything that would pluck the warmth straight from your soul, it was barreling down a river at the tail end of autumn in naught but your threadbare clothes. And seeing his confidant get run through with an arrow certainly didn’t inspire any warm feelings.

Kili was quite stand-offish after he received that wound, gruffly waving off all others’ concerns, including Bilbo’s. It was funny, Bilbo had never before thought Kili and Thorin were much alike expect maybe in look. That is, he didn't really think so until this moment. They both adamantly refused others’ help when they clearly needed it most.

If they had but a moment alone, Bilbo would’ve tried to ease his friend’s pain, as he did for Thorin at the cliffs. Alas, there wasn’t a moment of peace and Bilbo wasn’t sure if his Heat Healing would even help in this instance. The wound looked dreadful.

For then, they ran into the Bowman - Bard - who Balin then convinced to allow them commission of his barge, so Bilbo didn’t have much chance to make an offer of healing to his confidant.

He seemed a nice man, Bard. Honorable, yet willing to do what must be done for the sake of his loved ones.

“And what are you, Mr. Baggins? If you do not mind my asking.” asked the voice of their ferryman himself, breaking Bilbo from his thoughts. 

“Pardon?” Bilbo answered.

“Forgive if I may sound rude, but you are around the height of a Dwarf yet so unalike in every way, including look and manner. You asked me my name.” Bard said matter-of-factly, which Bilbo supposed was a fair assessment. “I have never seen or even heard of the likes of you in these parts. From where do you hail?”

“Oh, well, a way’s off…In the far west.” Bilbo started absentmindedly. “To your credit, Mr. Bard, my people are fairly reclusive.” he continued, feeling for some reason unhesitant to share. Bilbo had no doubt ran his mouth off to that Gollum fellow and he would hesitate to do such again, but Bard seemed a good man. He didn’t see the harm in doing so now. “I am a Hobbit.”

Bard bobbed his head minutely in what Bilbo gauged to be understanding as he looked to the water. “Ah. So that is it, then. I was under the impression you were one of those mythical Fae folk.”

And suddenly, the feeling that he could share with Bard all but vanished. 

“Excuse me?”

“You know, a Halfling. Small-folk. A Fae.” Bard listed before he turned to Bilbo once more, his calculating gaze seeming to take in Bilbo’s reaction.

Bilbo had actually laughed at that. “Pardon me, but I’m no such thing. I am a _Hobbit,_ thank you very much. My people take ill to these diminutive names, just so you know. And as for that last suggestion, well, that’s preposterous.” he scoffed. 

_Really? Him? A fairy? How absurd._

“I am joking, of course.” Bard assured, but Bilbo had a strange feeling that that was only half the truth. “My apologies for any offense, but you are...akin to an old story of us Men. You must forgive me. I have read one too many bedtime stories in my day.” he laughed as he turned his gaze back to the ice-filled water.

“Well, that’s alright.” Bilbo assured with an easy smile, feeling his nerves settle a bit. It only made sense that Men this way out east had never heard of his people. The Men of Bree hardly knew what to make of their strange neighbors, other than companionable drinking partners, that is. 

Bilbo chortled to himself, uncaring that he found his own jokes so amusing before he directed his attention back to Bard, more than a little curious. “What kind of stories do you attribute to me, if you don’t mind _my_ asking?”

“Oh, your standard fairy-story subjects. Sm— _differently_ sized beings from a Realm of Green Pastures with hands of magic.”

Bilbo had blanched. “Hands of magic?” he repeated, doing his best to keep his tone free of his nerves.

Luckily, Bard was still looking to the water so he could not see Bilbo’s poor reaction. “Oh, you know, how else would they keep their home so beautiful and undisturbed if not for magic? It’s just a story to enchant the little ones. Or properly scare them into place if they misbehave. Fae who’ll come to their door and whisk them away if they’re naughty, or bring a storm right to their door if unpleased...You know, that sort of thing?”

Bilbo cleared his throat with a nervous laugh. “That’s quite ridiculous…” he trailed.

Bard merely shot him an amused look. “You should hear the stories we had for Elves and Dwarves before they were so commonplace for our people.”

“You’d do well to not listen to his ramblings, Master Hobbit.” Thorin said, letting his presence be known and absolutely startling Bilbo in the process as he turned to face the eavesdropper. “Men do naught but wag their tongues.” Thorin bit out with one of his familiar scowls, which Bilbo could now recognize as different than the ones he gave Elves. It was less filled with hatred and more so mistrust, as well as a startling bit of...guilt? Bilbo wasn’t too sure.

“Forgive me for any offense I might have caused, Master Dwarf.” Bard apologized once more, seeming as if he didn’t really mean it this time. “But your kind have not been seen in these parts for nearly a century. Many will find your presence odd.” he stated, sounding suspicious himself before he looked away from Thorin and back to the foggy water. “Which is why you must remain unseen and to do that, you must listen to all that I say.”

“We know what we are hiring you for, Man. Just see to it that you do your duty and you needn’t concern yourself with us much longer.” Thorin said with finality as he placed his arm around Bilbo and then began to literally steer him away from the man. 

Bilbo would’ve chastised the dwarf for his rude manners to a man they owed a great deal to, however, Thorin was startling warm and Bilbo was shamefully unwilling to remove himself the little warmth that was seeping from the dwarf.

Once they were a considerable distance away, Thorin turned his head down to Bilbo. “Cold, Master Baggins?” he inquired, if at all possible, sounding a bit surprised.

Bilbo noted as much. “Don’t sound too surprised, Master Dwarf. I have quite a great deal less meat on me than you. It’s not preposterous for me to be too cold, not after that dreadful plunge we took.” he flat out lied. After all, he was a Flame-former. It took a great deal to get his kind cold. Apparently, their previous plight would suffice as ‘a great deal’.

“Of course.” Thorin said in a drawn out breath, the heat of his body condensing in a cloud of vapor as it left his mouth, as if he were blowing smoke and not air. He sounded surprised at himself this time, as if he thought himself foolish for forgetting that such a result was so ordinary. Bilbo momentarily wondered when the dwarf became so easy to read. “I suppose even you losing your people’s commonplace heat is just a testament to our present strife.” he continued, apparently having accepted Bilbo’s little white lie about average Hobbit body temperatures all those miles ago. He looked out to the water, as if he could somehow see past the thick fog. “Fret not much longer, Bilbo. It won’t be long now. We’re close. It’s as if I can feel something...pulling me in the right direction…” he trailed, voice a bit...dark.

Bilbo watched the dwarf with abject wonder, a little mystified that he were sharing such a personal feeling with him. “Well,” Bilbo started quietly, gaining Thorin’s attention once more. “I’d call it a sort of internal compass. Homeward bound.” he added lightly, flashing a smile to help ease the tense mood.

Thorin then look back to Bilbo, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips ever so slightly. “Perhaps you are right.” he conceded before he looked back to the water and continued, “By Mahal’s Grace, we should reach our goal soon. It’s only a matter of time.”

As if struck, Bilbo had tensed, but not because of an ill feeling this time.

_Of course! That was it! How did he not think of it before?_

His strange reaction did not go unnoticed however. 

“Bilbo?” Thorin questioned, sounding the slightest bit concerned. 

Bilbo quickly recovered and came up with a cover. He’s been getting quite good at it, as of late. 

“Oh, no. I’m fine.” he assured as he shrugged out from under Thorin’s arm, regretting it momentarily for the loss of warmth. “It’s just...you are right! We’re nearly there so...someone should go check on the lads. I’ll make haste!” he assured as he slipped away, barely giving Thorin the chance to look confused.

Wrapping his arms around himself, Bilbo did just exactly as he said and hurriedly made his way to where he’d seen Oin hobble away from moments prior. Rounding the opposite sides of the barrels at the far end of the barge, Bilbo found just the dwarf he was looking for, and then some.

Kili was sat upon some partially filled rucksacks, resting his back against the barrel behind him with his injured leg stretched out in front of him. His arms were crossed and there were harsh lines etched across his face. He was clearly in pain, but he looked to still be uninterested in receiving any dottage or concern that Ori and Fili were offering him.

Upon his arrival, all youthful faces turned up to greet the hobbit.

“Lads.” Bilbo greeted to all three of them as he sat down to Kili’s left, folding his legs beneath himself. “How’re we faring?”

As Ori opened his mouth to undoubtedly answer, Kili bit out in what sounded to be his best impression of Thorin, “ _Just fine._ ”

Bilbo then looked to Ori, who shot him a helpless look and Fili, who gave him a peeved one.

“I see.” Bilbo simply answered, beginning to drum his gloved fingers on his lap in thought.

Kili was in quite the sorry state. Oin no doubt did his best to tend to him but seeing as the Elves took all their belongings and Bard only carried a simple balm for much lesser hurts on his person, there was only so much the old dwarf could do. Kili wasn’t going to be receiving any proper treatment until they reached the human settlement and by the looks of him, Bilbo wasn’t sure if he’d make it that long.

It was a good thing that Thorin had reminded him of something that could no doubt change the tide, so to speak. Bilbo couldn’t believe he had forgotten it, but in his defense, he had never done such a thing before. As with most things pertaining to his Gift, he never thought he _could,_ until recently.

But he’d have to disperse the witnesses.

“I think I may be able to help.” he finally spoke up to which both Ori and Fili gave him their own distinct looks of confusion while Kili’s eyes merely narrowed, suspicious. “Ori, do you think you could check in with Thorin or our guide to see how long till we reach our destination?”

Ori blinked in that surprised way he did whenever someone addressed him directly before he answered, “Oh. Yes. Of course.” as he stood up, looking between Bilbo and the two brothers with confusion before tottering off,

Bilbo smiled. “Thank you.” he called kindly, feeling a bit bad for exploiting the boy’s kindness so. However, he wanted to lessen the amount to witnesses of what he was about to do as much as possible and sending Ori to go and _ask_ someone something, someone they regarded with great respect or unfamiliarity, was the surest way to ensure he’d be off for quite a bit. He needed to work up the nerve to speak to such a person so directly, after all. If he went to Thorin, he’d no doubt stand on the side and wait for a natural breach in conversation so he could finally voice his statement or if he went to Bard, well, such a decision would require quite a bit of gusto gathering in the first place. Yes, Ori’s return would be stalled, which gave Bilbo plenty of room for his act.

Fili, however, was a different story. Bilbo knew he wouldn’t be able to dismiss the older dwarf so easily, especially since his brother were injured and he had just sent off another of their kin. It would be quite suspicious. Ori was polite and would oblige Bilbo in whatever he asked of him. Fili, however, was not so. He’d no doubt deny Bilbo if he made such a request at such a time.

_Collateral damage,_ Bilbo eventually consoled himself as he removed his gloves.

Kili’s narrowed eyes then widened as he tried to sit up further, however it was Fili that spoke first, “What are you doing?”

“Hobbits, we...have this sort of… _prayer_ for trying times. When one’s health is most compromised.” Bilbo began, a little impressed - as well as a little unnerved - at how easily feeding the dwarves these little white lies had become. “I’d like to try it now, if that is alright with you?” he had asked to older brother, pointedly ignoring Kili’s plainly disagreeing looks. He had predictably guessed that Bilbo was up to something involving his Gift and didn’t wish for Bilbo to risk himself like this. Which Bilbo would find sweet, if it didn’t also mean forfeiting his companion’s life.

Upon Bilbo’s words, Fili seemed to untense. “I...didn’t take you as the praying sort.” he stated though he scooched back slightly. 

“I’m not, really.” Bilbo answered with a smile as he slid closer to Kili’s outstretched leg. “Not usually, I mean. But, well, this seems as right a time as any.” he tittered on as he began to reach out his hands before he stopped himself short of Kili’s wound. “Um, direct skin contact is ne...um, traditional.” he amended.

Fili motioned his hand in a sort of _‘go ahead’_ gesture to which Bilbo obliged.

“What’re you doing?” Kili bit out once again, seeming to try and keep his voice quiet.

“ _Helping._ ” Bilbo hushed back. “This may sting a little.” he warned at a normal volume before he promptly placed his hands over Kili’s wound. Whatever further protests Kili was to voice were quickly smothered by a small yelp of pain as his leg jerked and Fili tensed, but Bilbo was more focused on other things.

For one, Kili’s hurt seemed to have captured all the heat that had fled Bilbo’s body ever since the river fiasco. However, unlike the normal heat people usually gave off, this felt...sick. Fevered. Kili truly was in a sorrier state than Bilbo had feared. But hopefully, Bilbo could fix that.

Like many things regarding his Gift, he had never done this particular trick before. Well, it wasn’t so much as a trick as it was a skill, one particularly talented River-runners and exceptionally skilled Flame-formers have only been able to master.

His Aunt Donnamira had actually been the one to teach him about it, as she had been able to manage it herself once or twice.

_‘A Flame-former’s healing isn’t as strong as a River-runner’s can be. They just have a sort of...affinity for it.’_ she had informed him as Bilbo and his cousins sat around her skirt. _‘But particularly skilled Flame-formers - such as myself - have been able to do it on one particular occasion.’_

_‘What occasion?’_ the young, desperate, mediocrely-Gifted hobbit Bilbo once was had asked.

_‘If you deem your patient is in a dire enough state that his life may be in danger and simple Heat Healing isn’t enough, you can call on the highest authority in all of Middle-earth to assist you.’_ she had teased them, letting the answer hang in the air, her children and nephew squirming with anticipation before she finally answered, _‘Lady Yavanna herself.’_

Unlike her father, Auntie Donna didn’t ever embellish her tales and had even taught the lads the particular cantation one would say in the occasion. Though Bilbo had his reservations about how easy she made it sound, he thought it wouldn’t hurt to try.

It wasn’t like Bilbo was a healer - asides from that one instance on the cliffs. Healing took years of practice and dedication to the craft, not to even mention the practice of healing with a _Gift._ However, he certainly felt like the situation was dire enough.

He called forth his heat and pooled it in his palms, feeding it to Kili’s wound. Kili’s leg shifted minutely before the lad seemed to deflate. _Soothed._

Bilbo hoped to do more than just soothe in this instance though, so hoping his memory wouldn’t fail him, he began to recite that little rhyme he had never thought he’d need or use, “Yavanna’s Grace go with this heat, so this cold soul this world may keep.”

Upon his words, for the first time in a long while he felt something… _stutter. Splutter. Crackle._

Something wasn’t right.

He tried again. “Yavanna’s Grace go with this heat, so this cold soul this world may keep.” he repeated, with a bit more umph in his cadence.

The heat gathered most prominently in his hands if Kili’s relaxed sound was anything to go by. But still, something within Bilbo had hesitated. Something wasn’t giving. His heat wasn’t transferring like it did with Thorin that night. He could feel it in his chest. His fire wasn’t lighting as it should’ve.

Feeling frustrated, he pressed his hands down a bit more firmly, heedless of Fili and Kili’s noises of protest as he said with more assertiveness than one would call polite, “ _Yavanna’s Grace go with this heat, so this cold soul this world may keep!_ ” and he _pushed_ at his heat with a great deal of force.

Bilbo was minorly aware of flames forming underneath his palms, Fili’s gasp, and Kili’s moan before something within his chest didn’t just stutter or splutter or crackle. It _stopped._

As if he were the one pushed, Bilbo fell forward. He barely registered the concerned voices of his onlookers as he crashed into a firm chest and his vision whited out with pain before everything numbed and all he knew was the cold and dark.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo wakes to a great many changes.

When Bilbo woke, the first thing he noticed was the warmth. Though this warmth, he realized, was distinctly not his own.

Something was covering him, a blanket most likely. But there was also something else warm floating through his mind other than sleep. 

_He could feel them…_

Without even opening his eyes, he felt his surroundings become a bit clearer. Or rather, _who_ was surrounding him. He recognized the warmth of a body nearby, though they were not as close to him as one might’ve thought. Call it a sort of...sixth sense.

Every Gifted hobbit had their own form of it. River-runners and Ground-growers could _feel_ for disturbances in the flow of the water and the vibrations of the earth, respectfully, in a way that let them ‘see’ without using their eyes. Admittedly though, it were the Wind-weavers who possessed the greatest of these skills. If they _listened_ properly, they could detect even the faintest of breaths on the wind from miles away... 

However that’s not to say Flame-formers were lacking any similar skill. They themselves could feel the warmth of another’s body from some pretty considerable distances. If it were a single person, they could be detected from a few rooms away. If it were a group of them, then the breadth was much wider. Matter of fact, that’s how Bilbo navigated the halls of the Elven-king so expertly. The heat the dwarves gave off was almost as rauncus as they were. It was easy to find his way back to them.

Speaking of, he felt them nearby. That familiar, captivating heartfire of a Dwarf - that’s always what his mother used to call them, heartfires. He’s always been able to feel them if he tried hard enough, even when he possessed far lesser skills. However, it wasn’t until this journey did he learn that different peoples had different heartfires. 

Firstly, orcs and goblins and the like rarely gave off any sort of signature. As his mother liked to say, people with _good_ hearts have a glow. He’d imagine she’d be quite happy - and equally horrified - to know she was quite right in that regard. Then there was Gandalf, whose was much like the sun; if one contemplated it for too long, they’d go blind. Then there were Men’s, whose were much like campfires, seemingly tamed yet able to go up into a destructive blaze if properly provoked. Elves gave off one akin to the stars they worshiped so much, bright and beautiful to behold yet so distant. Dwarves’ were much like the forges they mastered, powerful and aglow.

The dwarves were here, in whatever house he occupied, as well as some men - no, children. For they felt young and bright, as children’s heartfires tended to do. Yet there was something else about them. As if there were a shade cast over them. A bit of old sorrow, perhaps.

Then of course there was the matter of the dwarf who was apparently right next to him, who seemed to be festering in a strange mix of worry and scorn.

But funnily enough...Bilbo didn’t recall ever _trying_ to start seeking heartfires. He just...awoke doing it, which was most strange, indeed. But perhaps even more worrying was the fact that he could tell how the owners of these heartfires were _feeling._

_That wasn’t normal._

When his eyes snapped opened upon this realization, he was met with an unfamiliar looking quilt. _Right, that would be the warmth covering him, then._

Turning his eyes upwards, he also noticed that the rafters of whatever room he was in were entirely un-Hobbit like. _Not a single curved cornice in sight._

He had no idea where he was.

Seeking the source of the queer feelings the heartfire was feeding him, he turned his head to the side and was met with a familiar scowl on entirely the wrong face.

Upon meeting Fili’s gaze, instead of some rational questions like _‘Where are we?’_ or _‘What’s happened?’_ , his sleep addled brain instead asked, “Were you lads raised by Thorin?” his words practically slurred. 

That got rid of Fili’s scowl right quick. It was instead replaced by a look of utter confusion. “What?”

“Your expression. You and your brother share it with your uncle…” Bilbo muttered, closing his tired eyes until once again, he shocked his own self into alertness with his next thought. He liked to think it was his practical Baggins side making itself known. 

“Kili!” Bilbo gasped. “Where is he?” he questioned - albeit rather frantically - as he shot upright just before he about doubled over from an unknown pain, much to Fili’s concern. 

For but a moment, Bilbo forgot all about his concern for his companion and grasped at his shirt, as if trying to reach the source of his pain. It wasn’t something piercing, but it felt utterly unnatural. Like sore lungs after a winter sickness.

“Easy, easy!” Fili exclaimed, jumping into motion almost as soon as Bilbo had, trying to maneuver the distressed hobbit back into a lying position. 

Though Bilbo couldn’t, not with all his worry. “Kili! Is he alright?” he reiterated, his last waking memories on Bard’s barge flooding back to him.

_Barge, that’s right! They were on a barge just before this! Where were they now?_

As if he could hear Bilbo’s frantic thoughts, Fili laid a comforting hand upon his shoulder, trying to push him to lie down once more. He answered, “Lie still. He’s resting in another room. The bargeman’s agreed to host us until you two are faring better.”

“Oh.” Bilbo said in a breath, feeling himself calm ever so slightly. He maneuvered himself into a more comfortable upright position and as the quilt previously covering him fell away, he realized just how cold it was in this place.

 _But no. That wasn’t right,_ he thought. It wasn’t cold here, per say. They were inside, after all. No, Bilbo was merely cold _er._ Colder than he was used to being as of late. 

Still acutely aware of the ache in his chest, he brought up his hand to feel for… _something,_ unsure of what exactly - perhaps the source of his seemingly bone deep aches - but he stopped halfway, staring at his covered palm.

He didn’t remember putting his gloves back on. 

In fact, they weren’t even _his_ gloves (actually, they looked like something of Ori’s make). They were made of some type of soft wool that would no doubt easily catch aflame if he so much as had a heated thought. Which, upon trying to have one for the sake of his peace of mind, they did not.

“Your fingers turned blue.” Fili said, once again seeming to know what was on Bilbo’s mind. “Along with an alarming amount of the rest of you.”

The blue fingers alone were alarming! That’s never happened to him before, even on the coldest of winter nights in the Shire. He was a Flame-former, after all. It was—

“Strange,” Fili voiced, his tone sounding rather calculated. “considering that I saw _fire_ spout from them just moments before it happened.”

Bilbo tensed.

 _Oh yes,_ he suddenly recalled. _That’s right._

Back on the barge, Bilbo had made the calculated risk to perform the healing incantation in front of Fili. He had hoped the lad would just think it a prayer, as Bilbo had claimed it to be in the moment. At the time, he had originally believed that the worst case scenario would’ve been Fili gained a deeper respect for the Hobbits’ main deity. He had no idea his flames would’ve made themselves known, nor did he have any intention of summoning them! Something had gone wrong. And judging by his inability to summon even any heat now, something had gone _terribly_ wrong.

Feeling quite defeated - and most likely, rather tired of lies - Bilbo found himself admitting, “I...did not mean to do that...”

Fili voiced something that sounded like a scoff before he leant back in his seat and said, “Please, enlighten me as to how you _accidentally_ do such a thing.”

Instead of answering, Bilbo found himself looking to Fili, feeling a touch self-conscious, as well as surprised. “You...You do not sound as if you are surprised that I could even do such a thing to begin with, let alone intentionally.” he noted aloud. “As if you...As if—”

“Kili cued me in.” Fili finished for him, confirming Bilbo’s suspicion.

“He did?” Bilbo questioned, startled by the fact not because he felt betrayed for the sharing of his secret, but rather surprised that it was able to be voiced. “Then you mean he’s—”

“Faring much better now, aye.” Fili confirmed before he folded his arms across his chest and continued, “In no small part thanks to you, so I’ve been told. Which I also find odd considering you literally tried to light his leg on fire and it seems to have momentarily cured him.”

“Momentarily?” Bilbo repeated, whatever satisfaction he had over his own skill swiftly vanished in light of this new worry. Had he mucked up the healing process somehow?

For the first time since this conversation began, Fili’s expression turned to something other than stony. It turned worried. “Aye. What...Whatever you did helped relieve him of his pain a great deal, yet his wound is still worrying. Oin is watching him closely.” he elaborated before he looked back up to Bilbo with such a seriousness that Bilbo truly was convinced Thorin had reared these lads himself. “Frankly, it’s you I’m most concerned about in this moment. You’ve been asleep for nearly a week.”

“I’ve _what?_ ” Bilbo exclaimed, his shocked cry nearly reverberating throughout the little room they resided in.

“ _Shhh!_ ” Fili hushed as he leant forward, nervously looking towards the door for good measure. “Or you’ll send the whole Company running up here! It’s been hard enough to keep them at bay, as is.”

Something like dread pooled in Bilbo’s stomach. “You’re not letting them see me?” he asked, confusion and hurt admittedly leaking into his tone.

Upon looking back and noticing whatever hurt look appeared to be on Bilbo’s face, Fili’s harsh gaze softened into something much more akin to his usual disposition, flashing Bilbo a small, sympathetic smile. “Not for the reason you believe, I’m sure. There is something...different about you, Bilbo. And I should think that if I’m to be brought into this conspiracy alongside you and Kili, then I think I’m deserving of some answers.” he said in such a rush that Bilbo suddenly recalled the lad’s young age. 

Fili was simply frustrated. Confused. He wanted answers, and who was Bilbo to keep them from him any longer?

Feeling resigned to his fate, but recalling Kili’s words on the most trustworthy candidates for potential confidants, Bilbo felt not as reluctant to share as he once did. “What else did your brother tell you about my…difference?” he queried tentatively.

Fili seemed to deflate then, seeming pleased that he no longer had to put up this gruff front but simply exhausted by it. “That it is not a curse or a spell of some sort. That it is not an uncommon thing for your people to do. That you call it a...a present.”

“ _Gift._ ” Bilbo corrected. “We call it a Gift.”

“I’m pretty certain Kili said ‘present’.” Fili reaffirmed.

“Oh, I’m sure that he did too, but that does not mean it right.” Bilbo shot back. “Quite frankly, I shudder to think of how he might’ve misquoted me. I had to go over the details with him _thrice,_ you know, and his questions after were quite insistent!” he huffed.

Fili’s lips quirked into a smile. “That is a valid concern…” he trailed with a hint of amusement in his voice before his look quickly sobered. “So clarify some things for me, Bilbo. I won’t lie and say that I didn’t find what you did - _do_ \- odd. But you helped Kili. Have been helping all of us this whole time, if Kili speaks true. And on this matter, I believe that he does. So help me to understand what’s going on, Bilbo, so that I can help you.”

His request was so honest and kind that Bilbo didn’t think he could deny him it even if he wanted to. And so, Bilbo recounted his people’s stories for their Gifts, the types there were, their meaning and significance. And he also spoke of his own personal story, of how he’s been using his Gift to assist in this venture, his strange development of skill, and his sudden loss of it. All the while, Fili listened attentively, much like his brother had but far more quiet and contemplative, until he got to this current development in Bilbo’s tale.

“It’s almost as if you burnt out.” Fili theorized. Upon Bilbo’s unimpressed look, he furthered, “Alright, poor choice of words, but it’s true! You were probably already chilled by the river - I mean, _I_ was cold - so I can’t imagine how a little Hobbit fared any better.” Upon Bilbo’s peeved look turning into a glare, Fili cleared his throat and continued, “But, well, you were cold and then you did something you’ve never really tried before, something that probably required a great deal of...power so you were just...snuffed out.”

Bilbo sighed and looked off. “I suppose that’s a fair theory. But what has me most concerned is that I may have used up the last of my luck.”

Fili frowned. “How d’you mean?”

“I mean that what if I wasted it all? All of my ability before we’ve even reached our journey’s end? Yavanna, before we even reached the Mountain!”

“I wasn’t aware that your ability could just...run out?” Fili asked, genuinely confused.

“Well, it can’t.” Bilbo said, supposing that was true. As he said to Gandalf on his stoop all those months ago, Gifts didn’t just go away…”But I’ve never been any good with my Gift until this Quest. Gandalf theorized that it was because I had greater need of it out here than I did at home.”

“Ah. ‘Course. Gandalf…” Fili muttered to himself, as if just piecing something together before he seemed to clear his head and looked back to Bilbo. “Well, in my opinion. Your...Gift, I think, is just like…” he trailed, apparently searching for his words. “metal work.” he eventually settled on.

Alright, now Bilbo was lost. “Metal work?” he repeated, incredulous.

“Yes!” Fili said enthusiastically, so much so that Bilbo thought of his brother. “Think of it like this, you’re working a piece of metal but you got it too hot and then a piece of it just… _snaps_ off.” he theorized, oblivious to Bilbo’s flinch. “But if you let it cool, then slowly heat it up again, you can sort of reapply it and start again.” he shrugged.

After a long moment, Bilbo merely voiced, “Huh.”

Fili seemed satisfied and gave a nod. “So if you take it easy, rest up and all that, then your abilities will probably come back when you’ve ‘cooled down’, so to speak. And if what Gandalf said is true, then they’ll get better as you need them. You don’t really need them lying in this house, if you ask me.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Bilbo sighed once more. Before he looked to Fili again with a genuinely wary expression. “So, does all this theorizing for my benefit mean you’re not upset with me?”

Fili gave a breathy laugh. “No. If anything, I’m cross with your choice of _Kili._ Even more so, I’m surprised he was able to keep his big mouth shut about this for as long as he did. Especially from _me._ ” he said, causing Bilbo to finally crack a smile. “Frankly, I think it just goes to show how much trust he puts in you and you the same in him.”

Bilbo’s smile then turned contemplative. It was nice to be thought so highly of. To be such an outsider, so odd, yet still so trusted. He had truly lucked out with these lads being the ones to discover his secret. He shuddered to think of how things would’ve gone if it were any of the others who found him out. He’d probably had been banished by now, if not something worse.

Not wishing his thoughts to turn any darker, he turned his attention back to Fili and did his best to keep the small smile on his face. “If it’s any consolation, Kili’s finding out was entirely accidental, much as yours is. And, if it would help, there is a bit of information your brother does not know that I can share with you now?”

Fili’s eyes lit up with something quite pleased and mischievous. “Oh, do divulge.” he drolled.

And so, Bilbo began to reveal his apparent new ability to feel heartfires on a most intimate level. At Fili’s initial confusion, Bilbo backtracked and explained the concept of Gift skill subsets. As he went on to detail River-runners and their ripple reading, Ground-growers and their foot-sight, Wind-weavers and their keen listening ears, Fili’s eyes were alight with wonder at each new revelation.

He had hoped what Fili suggested true. That he was just a little spent right now and some rest would fix him up. His Gift wasn’t completely gone, no matter how cold and empty his chest felt. How else would he be able to feel the heartfires, if it were?

Though Bilbo hoped that they’d come back soon. If just trying a relatively normal healing ceremony was enough to drain him, he feared what trying to stave off a fire-breathing dragon would do to him...

This was all just typical, wasn’t it? He developed a great affinity for translating others’ heartfires, yet he seemed to have no control over his own?

 _Blasted Vala._ He was sure that Eru and Aüle and even the Green Lady Herself were all up there, laughing at him.

How much more did they intend to put him through before the end?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Think of Flame-formers feeling/seeing heartfires as like seeing auras or heat signatures. Though it’s not common to be able to feel others’ feelings.


End file.
